


I'll find somebody like you.

by muchosmuchosmangos



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Humor, Friendship, Jean Kirstein & Eren Yeager Friendship, Mikasa Ackerman & Levi Are Related, Multi, Music, POV Annie, Sass, Slow Build, annie's dad isn't abusive in this one, awkward high school relationships, basically the sassiest au high school fic out there, her mom is kind of a bitch though, krista and annie are related, more sass, pretty much every character is in this somehow, seriously the slowest build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-04-21 13:31:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 48,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4830875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muchosmuchosmangos/pseuds/muchosmuchosmangos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annie spent her whole life being told what to wear, what activities to do, and who (not) to socialize with. Her mother was just looking out for her, right? Giselle Reiss Leonhart was just making sure that her daughter would have every opportunity available to her, and would grow up into a perfect young lady. But no one's heard from Annie's mother since the beginning of summer, and Annie has to start her junior year of high school without her guidance. <br/>Now is the time to figure out who she really is when she's not trying to live for someone else, but it's harder than it looks. Luckily, she has some people in her life who would be willing to help her, if she can open up and let them in. People like Jean; her childhood punching bag turned friend, Eren; his insane neighbor with the big personality, Krista; the nosy cousin she's always dodging, and Armin; the brilliant boy who is willing to look past her prickly exterior to see what kind of girl she really is.<br/>It's going to be an interesting year.  </p><p>AKA Sarcastic Annie is the reason I get up in the morning. Mainly Armin/Annie, other pairings will happen but the pace of the story is very slow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing a fic, and so far it's being done without the help of a beta reader. So apologies in advance for any spelling/grammar errors. I don't own any of these characters, I am merely borrowing them. Sorry for any OOC for Annie. She is a canon murderer after all. 
> 
> Feedback is appreciated. I don't know how many people like the story versus how many give up in disgust after two paragraphs without it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m pretty sure he only picks me up in the mornings so he could confirm that his offspring was indeed still alive before he continued on ignoring me. It walked the line of bare minimum parenting effort, but there was food in the fridge when I needed it and none of my tuition checks had bounced yet, so altogether CPS wouldn’t be breaking down the door anytime soon.

Hank was late picking me up for school again.

It was such a common occurrence that I don’t know what I was thinking, waiting out on the front steps like this. Even with my hood pulled up, the light drizzle still found a way to gather directly onto my hair, which I had actually left loose around my shoulders for once. So much for that. With one more look both ways down the quiet street, I hefted my backpack onto one shoulder before turning to go back into the townhouse. I stopped at the mirror just inside the foyer, so I could keep one eye out front in case he pulled up, then scraped my hair back into its usual bun.

I didn’t waste a lot of time looking at my reflection, just long enough to make sure I didn’t leave any stray pieces of hair on the nape of my neck and that I left all my fringe out to (hopefully) cover up some unfortunate forehead acne. My mother always scolded me that having bangs in my face was the cause of the acne in the first place, usually following it up by trying to push a headband or barrettes on me.

Thoughts of Giselle so early in the morning wasn’t a good sign for the rest of the day, so I pushed it down inside my mind and tried to distract myself by glancing at what I could see of the kitchen from my lookout spot by the door. It was filthy. Somehow I hadn’t noticed that until now, but then again I tend not to notice a lot of glaringly obvious stuff that early in the morning. Hank must had gotten home from the gym so late that he hadn’t wanted to wake me with cleaning sounds. It was sweet of him, until I realized that meant it would all still be there for me when I got home from school. There was literally zero chance that he would stop back at the house after dropping me off at school before going back to work, probably until the late hours of the evening. Again. This was in addition to leaving before I woke up so he could work for a couple hours before taking a break to give me a ride. I take the bus home in the afternoon, and I’m pretty sure he only picks me up in the mornings so he could confirm that his offspring was indeed still alive before he continued on ignoring me. It walked the line of bare minimum parenting effort, but there was food in the fridge when I needed it and none of my tuition checks had bounced yet, so altogether CPS wouldn’t be breaking down the door anytime soon.

Two short honks startled me out of my thoughts, and I jerked my head towards the window to see a familiar car out front. I gave a stiff wave to acknowledge that I’d seen him, before pulling up my hood again to prepare for the elements. Carefully locking the door behind me (Hank never remembered, and I was pretty sure we were both going to die in our sleep some day,) I made my way down the front steps and slid into the front seat of the vehicle. My father turned his tired face towards me and smiled.

“Is this a shuttle service?” I deadpanned. “My father was supposed to pick me up, but I’ve never seen you before in my life.” In truth, I hadn’t seen him since Saturday evening, and it was now Tuesday morning. He laughed at the joke, but it was a little too close to home to be entirely without bite.

“It’s nice to see you too, kiddo”, he chuckled, reaching out with one hand to ruffle the top of my hair, while the other flicked on the turn single to pull away from the curb.

“How are you, Dad?”, I asked as the car started moving again. The word Dad felt awkward and clumsy as I said it, he was always just Hank to me. Hank and I had never had a very nurturing relationship, but sentiment was in short supply these days and I thought we could both use some in light of recent events.

He sighed. “Good, fine,” he muttered as he checked his blind spot. “Busy as usual.” I zoned out as he droned on about the logistics involved with running a gym almost single handedly. Hank had plenty of help, from my perspective. The problem was letting go of the reigns a little bit to actually let someone else do something. I understood though, I was a perfectionist too. You could never guarantee that something was done to your standards unless you did the damn thing yourself. Hank ran a pretty popular local gym called Titans, a stereotypical bodybuilder hangout. He was looking to expand to some fitness classes too, and had hired a young twenty something named Petra to handle what he called the “chick stuff”. The business was doing well, but Hank was never going to be a rich man. That’s why he had gotten in the habit of working such long hours, so every possible penny could be returned to his family. Now that our expenses had decreased dramatically, I couldn’t tell if he kept working them out of habit, or just to avoid being in a home that must still seem unfamiliar to him after all these years.

A hand being waved in front of my face brought me back into the conversation. “Annie,” my father repeated, “I’ll probably be late again tonight kiddo. Do you want me to bring home anything for you to eat?”

I sank back into my seat. “I’ll be asleep, Dad. I have school tomorrow, I try to go to bed at 10.” I said flatly. I knew I was being unfair, how would Hank know what time I normally went to bed. The odds of us spending more than six hours under the same roof on any given day were very low.

“Alright,” he nodded, “I’ll just put something in the fridge for you. Maybe you can eat it tomorrow. Do you need anything so you can get your own dinner tonight? I can always call and have a pizza ready for you when you get home. Or do you want cash? You could go out, grab a friend and get a bite to eat?”

What I really wanted was for this conversation to be over. “I had pizza yesterday.” I said, as the school came into view. “If you leave me twenty bucks, I can stop at the store on the way back to the house and get groceries for a few days.”

I busied myself unzipping my backpack and shuffling around papers that I already knew were perfectly organized. What I didn’t want to say was that I had no one to eat with, and no idea even where to go. The last time I had been out to a restaurant was beginning of May, and now it was two weeks into September. Mom had taken me out for sushi after shopping for my prom dress. I didn’t remember how it tasted, only how disappointed Giselle had been that no one had asked me yet.

The lump was rising in my throat again, so I kept my hand trained over the door handle, ready to jump out as soon as the car stopped moving. Hell, maybe before it stopped moving. I probably wouldn’t even need to tuck and roll at two miles per hour. Freedom was almost at hand when I felt a hand rest on my shoulder, holding me in place. “Annie.”

When I turned, I was surprised at the hurt look in my father’s eyes. I didn’t think I had been that surly on the drive, maybe his feelings had been hurt by my daydreaming while he was speaking to me. That didn’t usually bother him though, he knew I liked to be alone with my thoughts most of the time and was good about giving me space. “Annie, “ he said again, “ Are you...is everything okay? I know you’re not in as many activities this year, but it’s not too late to get back into something. If you’re bored at home, we can always find a dance class, or maybe another music lesson? The money isn’t a problem..” I tried pulling the handle of the door, but the car was still locked.

“It’s fine.” I interrupted. “I’m fine. I don’t mind being alone after scho-”

The loud sound of my father smacking the steering wheel, which inadvertently honked the horn, stopped me from whatever I had been saying. Hank Leonhart was not a very intimidating man, of average height and build, but right now his presence filled the whole car. “Dammit Annie!” he cursed, but I got the feeling it wasn’t directed entirely at me. “You’ve moped around all summer and I let it slide because...but now you’ve dropped almost all your after school activities so you can just go home and shut yourself away. It would be one thing if you had quit dance and tennis to spend more time with your friends, but you never bring anyone around. You’re sixteen, _you deserve to have a life_!”

I didn’t have anything to say after Hank’s outburst, and just let the silence settle back around us. Twenty dollars was gently tucked into the hand I had clenched around my seat belt, an unspoken apology for what had just happened. I kept my eyes straight ahead and whispered “I’m going to be late.”, as I hit the power unlock and freed myself from the car. My desire to avoid confrontation was almost strong enough to slink away like this conversation never happened, but not quite. So before closing the door I spun around and spat out “See you when we do this again in 24 hours.”

I didn’t turn quick enough to miss the sadness in my father’s eyes, and I dwelled on it all the way into the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited this to clean up the paragraphs and fix some errors on October 6th.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We definitely weren't a group of three. It was just me and Mina, and Jean hanging out in the same place at the same time. Oh my god, people considered us a group of three didn't they.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this the same time I wrote chapter 1, so any spelling errors and weird sentence structure have probably carried over. I'm sorry, I was just too giddy at the possibility of little!jean and little!annie being all adorable playing together, before Jean grew into his personality. Also, I wrote most of this chapter in third person point of view before I decided to change it, so please point out if anything is garbled.

First period would be so much better if Jean Kirstein didn’t exist. Really, it could be said for any period, since for some reason the big guy upstairs hated me and aligned the planets so we had every single fucking class together. I had the misfortune of knowing Jean since we were small children, and it was too bad I hated him so much since he was the closest thing to a friend I had.

His mother and my dad had been close growing up, so there were a lot of forced playdates in our communal history. When my father started throwing himself more and more into his business, it fell to Giselle as the stay at home parent to keep the friendship alive, which was tough since she felt the same about Beth Kirstein that I felt about Jean. Giselle and Jean though, oh boy, she thought that idiot hung the moon. She constantly pestered me to invite him over, or to go watch his soccer games, and once or twice convinced Beth to drag him to my dance recitals. Since I would have prefered that even my own parents didn’t go to those, it was ultra degrading that Jean was witness to them. Giselle called his long face and lanky frame dashing, and his two toned hair was alternative in a safe way. (Whatever that meant.)

I thought that if he was the last man on earth, I would start trying my hand with women. But due to our parents interventions, he was one of the top contacts in my phone history, and last year could be counted on to see a movie with me every once in awhile or just bum around the mall when I got so sick of structured activity that I thought I might light something on fire. He didn’t seem to mind that I didn’t talk much in these outings, probably because it left more time for him to talk about himself. Which was what he was doing right now while the teacher was trying in vain to teach them about The Scarlet Letter.

“Jean.” I cut off whatever he had been yammering on about. “I don’t give a shit. At all.” I wasn’t trying to pay closer attention to the teacher, (I had already read the book years ago), I just couldn’t take another second of obnoxious background noise when this was prime daydreaming time. “You weren’t even listening!” he whined. “You don’t even know what it is you’re refusing to hear about!” The teacher’s eyes moved over to us, and we froze like statues until she moved on to another group of students. “I don’t care,” I hissed, keeping my eyes trained to the opened book on my desk. “Whatever you’re saying can’t possibly be new _or_ interesting.”

It was more than likely to be true. Jean and I had gone to the same schools with the same people since kindergarten, so I had listened to ten years worth of bullshit. We had both attended a private elementary school that fed into the private high school they were in now. Trost Prep School. Low on religion, but high on the snobs. You were supposed to be clever to get in, but really anyone with enough money could buy a place for their spoiled child. I had the grades to get in on merit, but I had no doubt that even if I was pulling a C average, my mother would have poured money into the school to pave the way for me. No daughter of Giselle Reiss-Leonhart was going to be slumming in the public school system.

I wasn’t sure exactly how much tuition was, but I knew it was pricey. I was honestly a little surprised that my father hadn’t even broached the possibility of transferring to the closer and cheaper public high school. Instead I had just woken up one morning in late summer to a stack of bills on the table and a note on them that said UNIFORM MONEY ONLY. So I had dutifully caught the bus to the mall and purchased another years worth of school uniform clothes, then left the change on the table like the good daughter that I was. The clothing choices were pretty bleak, a white button up shirt with dark green sweater vest for both genders, knee length khaki skirts for the girls, and khaki pants for the boys. I wore pants, and Principal Erwin had long stopped fighting me about it. The same went for the white hoodie I wore during school hours. The problem was I was so tiny, the knee length skirt made me look like some kind of cult member in a modesty religion. Those were the downsides of being 5’’2, I guess. I had yet to discover many upsides.

I jerked my leg out and kicked Jean’s chair when I noticed that for some reason he was still fucking talking. Never one to let an opportunity to antagonize someone go, he returned the favor with several hard kicks to my own desk. The last one was strong enough to send my carefully laid pencils flying to the floor, and he caught my eyes and smirked while I had to crawl on the ground to retrieve them. God, he was a dick.

When the bell rang I practically flew out of my chair to get to my next class. In chemistry the students shared lab tables, two to a table, and when I’m too slow to grab a chair next to Mina Carolina I had the honor of sharing with Jean. Mina is my second closest friend at school, which meant I had her phone number so we could text about group projects sometimes. We also sat next to each other at lunch and study hall.

Jean was there too, but I liked to pretend that the real group was just me and Mina Carolina, with Jean as some kind of interloper. We definitely weren’t a group of three. Mina was a sweet girl who made the right amount of polite small talk, but knew when to read my mood to back off. We stuck together mostly because we didn’t like anybody else. I wasn’t sure how much we liked each other either, but there it was. Mina was waiting at a table already, the seat next to her still empty. When she saw me in the doorway she smiled and smacked her hand on the table surface a couple times, a gesture than I appreciated. It was nice to know that Mina liked my company enough to save the space.

The dark haired girl had only transferred to the school that year, so she had known me for a little more than two weeks. Since all their classmates had practically known each other since infancy, as a whole Mina was treated with a lot of caution. They were like sharks, slowly circling to see which social group Mina would gravitate towards. And to everyone’s surprise, she chose to spend her time with ice queen Annie and Jean-boy. (I wasn’t totally positive those were the nickname we were known by, but I doubted anyone could have come up with anything more creative.)

Jean slunk into a seat in the table behind them, moaning about being left out. “Three’s a crowd, genius.” I tossed over my shoulder. “I brought in a rookie, you find one if you want a friend to yourself.” Mina’s pigtails shook as she tried to stifle her laughter. Maybe that’s why she stuck around, I thought. The brunette girl seemed to like my dry sense of humor, along with the barbs I traded daily with Jean. Most of the other kids thought I was just stuck up, or scary. They never knew when to laugh at my jokes. I made them nervous. Mina didn’t seem to find me intimidating at all, and I remembered my father’s words in the car that morning, and figured maybe it was better that way. I didn’t want to scare away the only new friend I’d had made in ten-plus-years. After some initially grumbling, Jean stayed uncharacteristically silent through the next class, until lunchtime when he made his move.

Slamming his tray on the table in what he probably thought was a dramatic gesture, he caught both their eyes and motioned two fingers from his eyes to theirs. “Lady dudes, focus!” he ordered. “I have a very, very important mission for you, if you chose to accept it.” Jean watched way too many movies and had too few people to call him on it.

“Homecoming is on Saturday” he started, but Mina interrupted him, wrinkling her forehead. “No it’s not, it’s next month.” she corrected. Jean waved away her concern and continued on. “Homecoming at Rose High School is on Saturday” he clarified, enunciating every syllable while staring Mina down, then he turned to me and rolled his eyes. I refused to join in, instead helping Mina by contributing a death glare of my own. Jean cleared his throat, finally sensing the mood. “The love of my life goes to Rose High School, and she agreed to be my date for homecoming.”

I couldn’t let this go unchallenged. “Does this girl know she’s the love of your life? Is she tied up in your basement?” I leaned in very seriously. “Is she being held against her will, Jean?”

The hand gesture he threw my way was very rude, and in my opinion uncalled for. It was a valid concern, since until that moment I hadn’t heard anything about Jean having a great love of his life. Part of me wondered why I had to bear the brunt of Jean’s obnoxiousness, if he had a secret dream girl waiting in the wings somewhere.

“First of all, fuck off Annie. Second, she doesn’t know that we’re going to get married and have seven babies someday, only that I want to take her to the dance. She said she’d buy my ticket and go with me, but I have to find two ladies to go with my other two friends. The three of them kind of go everywhere together. So how about it? Saturday? I’ll drive since you losers don’t have cars.” Jean finished and stared at us expectantly.

The pair of us sat in silence for a few moments before Mina turned to me and whisper shouted “Oh god I think he’s talking about us.”

Once again he had a choice hand gesture ready, and my hand flew up to protect Mina’s eyes. I made expression as innocent as it could go. “Jean! Not in front of the children!” I scolded the most scandalized tone I could muster. The brunette laughed and pried my hand away. “Annie, what’s gotten into you today, you’re much sassier than usual. I like it.”

Sassy wasn’t a word I heard referring to myself very often, and I sat back in my chair with a thump while I tried to decide if _I_ liked it or not. I answered Mina with a shrug and turned back to Jean, who was tomato red. “Jean, I know this can’t be true, because you don’t have friends.” I drawled.

“I have tons of friends!” he shrieked. I maintained eye contact with him while I waved my hand over the rest of the empty table. “They don’t go here, I know them from my neighborhood.” he grumbled, and then launched back into his proposal. “Listen, “ he said in a hushed tone. “I really, really like this girl, and you two aren’t the worst people I’ve ever been around, so will you please do me this solid favor. The tickets are paid for, all you have to go is stand there and look pretty. Just go out and have fun. Annie, you do know what fun is, right? Should I bring out a dictionary and describe it to you?”

Mina looked at me out of the corner of her eye. Oh fuck no, she was following my lead on this one. Getting dressed up and making conversation with a stranger all night sounded awful, not to mention the point of it all would be to do something nice for Jean.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that I haven’t done anything that could be considered fun on Saturday for at least the past year. If ever. Giselle used to take me shopping on saturdays, and then we would go out for dinner, maybe see a movie if some sappy romantic comedy was playing. She liked those.. I forced myself to try to think of something else, but the next place my mind went was to my father this morning, yelling that I deserved to have a life. Doing something like this would be so out of character for me, he would probably stay off my back for the next six months. Jean took the fact that I was still sitting there thinking instead of walking away from the table as confirmation and started fist pumping the air aggressively. “Yes! Thank you girls so much! Mina, I love you. Annie, I enjoy spending time with you.”

Mina laughed and asked him what the trio’s names were. Jean got a dreamy eyed look on his face and started gushing. “Her name is Mikasa, she’s Japanese. She has the prettiest hair and these beautiful grey eyes. She can kick my butt at any sport. Her brother Eren has been my neighbor since we were born, he’s one of my best friends.” I stopped him there. “Is this the Eren who has the youtube channel, something YeagerBombs” Jean nodded a few times.

“I’m out.” I declared, getting ready to stand up. Jean reached both arms across the table and pushed my shoulders back down. “I was getting there.” he insisted, “I know he’s way too intense for you, you guys would kill each other by the end of the night. I figured he and Mina would hit it off though.” Mina was suspicious, “What do we have in common?”. Jean stared at her like she had two heads. “You’re a pretty girl, and he likes pretty girls.”. Oh, well then. I was trying to decide if I should feel insulted by this when Jean turned back to me. “I think you would like my buddy Armin. He’s a little shy, so you can’t do your whole psycho thing with him.”

I had nothing to say to that, which made Jean start jabbing his finger at me. “Yes. That. Don’t do that. Your whole thing where your eyes feel like lasers and you stand there silently judging all of us.”

I was definitely insulted, but he also wasn’t wrong.

The five minute warning bell rang, and Jean started fishing around in his pockets. He pulled out his cell phone and held it up in front of Mina. “Smile for the camera, princess.” he said as he started snapping photos. Mina took it like a pro, posing and smiling like she takes hundreds of pictures on a creepy loser’s cell phone every day. I didn’t do anything but glower when Jean turned to me, assuming it was my turn.

“Relax,” he told me as he slip the phone back into his pocket. “You take a bad picture, Leonhart.” He barely had time to dodge the spoon Mina chucked his way. There was a lot of venom behind her words, “That’s so mean, Jean! Annie is beautiful.” He wilted a bit under the force of her glare. “Hey hey, I didn’t say she was bad looking, she just really doesn’t take a good picture.” Jean protested. “I’ll have to get a candid shot of her later, otherwise I’ll just get some wide eyed stupid face.”

I was indeed making some wide eyed stupid face during this entire exchange, so I quickly smoothed my features back into my normal expression. Mina called it resting bitch face one day at lunch, and I responded by sitting at the far end of the table for the rest of the period. The solitude was almost nice, but then the next day when I sat there again her and Jean went ahead and plopped down like usual. So now I guess I had to worry about being camera ready for the remainder of the day, which meant for the next two classes whenever Jean moved so much as an inch I whipped my head around and wished once again that my eyes would grow lasers for real. The only peace I got was in the last class, orchestra, because thankfully Jean didn’t play an instrument.

Orchestra was the only non academic hobby I had left, and technically speaking it was still school since I was receiving credit for it. It was the only indulgence I allowed myself now, because I loved the clarinet so much. Music was different from ballet. In dance class, I had the techniques down but there was no passion there. It had been the same in my short lived gymnastics career.

My body type was perfect and I was athletically inclined, so I learned all the moves, but the best you could say about me was that I followed the directions and was never offbeat. With music, it’s like I was the best version of myself while I was playing clarinet. I was reaching my potential. I took my seat at first chair and gave a head nod to Krista up in the flute section. All I had to do was assemble my instrument, which had waited in it’s case at the bottom of my backpack all day. There was something so soothing about fitting the pieces together, getting the reed ready, setting up my music stand. It was the most relaxed I had felt all day.

Which Jean, that asshole, knew because he’s the closest friend I’ve got. So I never even noticed him creep up to the band room door, and I never saw the picture he took of me. Hair falling out of its bun around my face, a reed sticking out of the corner of my mouth, leaning forward to mark something on one of the pages. He never let me see that photo, but he promised me later that although it was faint, I was smiling.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krista had the honor of being my third closest and only other friend at school, which was entirely because we were related by blood. She was annoying as shit, but I might need a kidney some day so I need to keep the relationship tension free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this was written all in one chunk with the previous chapters, so if there is a word I keep misspelling it's probably still happening.

Class was barely over when Krista practically shoved Hitch, the second chair clarinet, out of her seat so she could lean conspiratorially against me. Her eyes shone as she bumped shoulders with me a couple times, clearly waiting for me to say something.

“What, Krista?” I growled, hoping she could take the hint that I wasn’t in the mood for whatever news she wanted to share. Sometimes I couldn’t believe we were related. I hoped desperately there had been a mix up at the hospital. Krista should have been a princess, all gracious thank you’s and congenial smiles. Instead she had the bad luck to be born my uncle’s bastard daughter, the one that the fine upstanding Reiss family tried in vain to pretend didn’t exist.

Rod Reiss, my mother’s brother, already had a family. There was no room for sweet little Krista, that was clear. Once I had overheard my mother tell Hank that Rod had offered Krista’s mom a sizeable sum of money to move with the baby to another city and forget his face. But Alma, for all her many faults, refused to be swept under the rug. She stayed put, and she gave her daughter the Reiss name as a big fuck you to her ex-lover. Some of Krista’s half siblings, also my cousins, attended the same schools as us, and they passed her in the hall like she was a ghost. Alma barely treated her any better, often leaving her only child for days at a time. The two of them lived with Krista’s maternal grandparents on the outskirts of town.

The most Rod did for her was sign her tuition checks every year, since Krista never would have been able to afford it otherwise. A small concession to the daughter he had abandoned. I knew he had the potential to do much more for them, my mother had told me what kind of wealth she had been born into. But the Reiss family line didn’t take too kindly to outliers, whether they were children born out of wedlock or headstrong daughters who married outside their social standing. Which was the reason my cousins weren’t too chummy with me during school hours either. Frieda, the oldest, was a beautiful girl who looked at me with kindness the few times that we had met, but they were always clandestine meetings that she planned herself once she had come of age. I figured she made the same secret visits to Krista as well, but it was something we had never talked about. Neither of us wanted to bring any more scandal onto the family, I guess.

Krista pushed her face up right against mine and squealed, “You have a date!”. She was so loud I swear half the band room turned around to look at us. Great. That would give everyone something to talk about. I seethed inside, but tried not to let it show. “One, it’s not a date.” I said cooly. “Two how in the world do you already know about this not-a-date.” I was pretty sure I already knew, since Mina wasn’t the type to tell near strangers about her personal life, which just left one big mouth in my life. Who was going to die shortly, if I could help it.

“Jean told me, he said it was my cousinly duty to make sure you wore something other than sweatpants.” Krista smugly replied. “Can you wear anything you already own, or do we need to go shopping?”.

She should have already known the answer to that. In early June, when it was clear that Giselle’s absence wasn’t an extended temper tantrum that would blow over soon, I had done a massive purge in my closet. Anything I hadn’t bought myself, anything I had been forced to wear for a special occasion, anything that I had worn while standing in front of a mirror while my mother stroked my hair and beamed with pride, it was all gone. I couldn’t look at any of those beautiful clothes that never felt quite right while they were on my body, because when I did I could still hear the sound of her voice “Look at my lovely girl. How could I have gotten so lucky?” Was I only a beautiful girl while I had on the right trappings? That was something I hadn’t gotten the chance to ask her, and now I might never be able to.

Now they sat in Krista’s closet, and she wore them as if she had always been the original owner. Almost like they had never spent a few months being pushed aside while I reached for yet another pair of sweats. “I own more than sweatpants.” I mumbled, trying to force everything neatly into my pack.

I was lying, and she knew it. But unlike me, she was nice enough to let it slide without calling attention to it. Instead she breezed on as if I hadn’t spoken. “Come over after school. You can borrow something. Jean said that his date, Mikasa? She was wearing something knee length. I guess they don’t go as formal as we do.”

I knew we were both thinking of my unworn prom dress, still in its garment bag in the walk in closet of my house’s master bedroom. It was the only thing I hadn’t offered to Krista when she carted all my unused stuff away, and she hadn’t asked. The day my mother packed up her things, she must have stopped what she was doing to run to the dress shop and pick it up. I still wondered if the store had called while she was in the middle of stripping the house of her presence, or if she had remembered on her own that the tailoring would be finished. I would never know, I had been at school when it happened.

I only knew that when I got home and climbed the stairs up to her room, the bed was made but the pictures and jewelry on the dresser were gone. Inside the open closet doors, the shelves and bars were empty save for a stark white garment bag that contained the nicest thing I now owned. One last maternal gesture in the midst of all the chaos.

“I can’t after school today, Krista. Too much to do.” This was yet another lie, but she let this one go too. Her small hand shot out and gripped mine tightly, and she squeezed until I lifted my eyes to hers. “Tomorrow then, okay? Promise me.”

There was steel there. Krista was a people pleaser by nature, but she was no doormat. My mother, who had always had a soft spot for her, called her indomitable. Giselle would stare off into the distance and shake her head at me whenever she heard of some new snub her birth family had done against the girl. “You don’t know that family, Annelise. She and I got dealt a hell of a hand.” Just her. I wasn’t included when she spoke about the Reiss family, I wasn’t one of them.

She told me she kept me away to protect me, but in the darkest hours of the night when I entertained my meanest thoughts, I wondered if she had been ashamed of me. Giselle would visit them occasionally, always without my father or I. They must not always be the terrible people she warned me about, because often she came home smiling, content in a way that I never saw her at home. If I pushed myself a little more, maybe she would bring me with her one day. Her indomitable daughter, Annie. But I was always left behind, both then and now.

“Krista…” I whined. “You’re hurting me.”

“I couldn’t hurt you if I tried, you’re just being a brat.” she snapped, but she loosened her grip nonetheless. “You’re coming over the my house tomorrow, no ifs, ands, or buts. I’ll make sure Nan knows that you’re staying for dinner too.”

“You already tailored all my old clothes.” I pointed out. It had been a matter of necessity, Krista had stopped growing at 4’’11. The only time I ever felt remotely tall was around her. Our petite frames were where the familial resemblance stopped though. We were both blondes, but her hair was a bright golden color while mine was platinum. And yes, we both had blue eyes, but hers were like the sky on a cloudless day. Mine were so pale they looked almost colorless at times. She tanned easily, I required several layers of sunscreen in summertime to keep from becoming part lobster. Overall, Krista looked like the picture of all-american good health, and I looked like a photograph that had been left underwater for awhile. I’m not even going to touch on the nose situation. Genetics decided I was going to look like my father, two x chromosomes be damned.

Krista brushed my concerns away with a literal wave of her hand. “So you’ll show a little leg. Boys like that.”

“Oh yeah, do boys like it when you punch them in the face for leering, because that’s how the evening is gonna end.”

“Annie no. Jean said he talked to you about this.”

I arrived home around 5, laden with bags. The bus from school to my house was a straight shot, no transfers needed, but stopping at the grocery store made the whole thing a pain in the ass. I heaved my purchases onto what little space there was on the kitchen table and sighed. Things had gotten bad over the weekend, there was stuff on almost every available surface. This was the outcome of my own little passive aggressive strike, waiting to see if it would ever reach a point that Hank would say something about it to me.

I guess I lost, because I couldn’t stand it any more. Methodically, I put away the dishes, wiped down counters, and put away the box of cereal I’d left open this morning. Hank definitely hadn’t been home. He had a thing about leaving food out, so I’d left the box standing open out of spite. My own dinner of scrambled eggs didn’t take long to make, and neither did the homework that I hadn’t finished during study hall. The minutes ticked away on the clock in the hallway as I zoned in front of the TV, mostly for something to do. Tuesday used to mean ballet class right after school, right up to supper time. If my homework was light, mom would take me to the tennis court a few blocks away before it go too dark. I don’t know how many of those games were for enjoyment, or if it was just an excuse to see if Giselle was getting her money’s worth from the tennis lessons I took three times a week. Sometimes, if I hit a ball insanely out of bounds, she wouldn’t scold me but instead would throw her head back and laugh. Those times it seemed like it was for fun.

The grandfather clock chimed for ten o’clock, so I shut off the television and made sure the door was locked but not chained. Switching lights off as I went, I made my way upstairs to my room. I didn’t bother turning the lamp on, I just got undressed in the darkness and crawled under the covers, grabbing the familiar piece of paper off my nightstand as I burrowed into the blankets. I didn’t need light to know what it said, I had read it so many times. My fingers traced where the words were on the note my mother had left clipped to the bag from the dress shop the day she left me. “A beautiful dress for a beautiful girl.” it said in her scrolling handwriting. I clutched it to my chest and scrunched my eyes shut to hold back tears as I waited for sleep, the same as the last countless nights before.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ymir let out a bark of laughter and started slapping her dashboard. “Armin Arlert, oh god that’s priceless. I would pay money to see that.” I knew when I was being made fun of, and I didn’t like it one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, hope you enjoy. I like the idea of Krista pulling a she's-all-that style makeover on Annie. It seems like something she would do to be helpful.

I didn’t go to school the next day. I woke up before my alarm with a tight feeling in my chest, and I spent several minutes keeping time to the erratic beating of my heart. When it was clear the panicked feelings weren’t going to go away on their own, I dragged myself out of bed to reach my phone.

Dialing the number for Titans, I waited on my end as the phone rang for what seemed like a solid minute before a flustered sounding voice picked up. It was Hannes, one of the trainers at the gym. He apologized that my father couldn’t come to the phone himself, and I asked him to just relay the message that I would be staying home from school. He wouldn’t need to pick me up, but he would be expected to call the school a little later and give them notice so I wouldn’t be marked truant. I hung up the phone and didn’t waste any more thought to it. Jean’s mother always gave him the third degree whenever he tried to take a sick day, but I knew Hank was so out of his element that he would follow whatever instructions I gave him. He had never had to handle the nitty gritty parenting role.

There was no reason for him to know that Giselle had let me take just a handful of sick days in the last five years, and certainly not for anything like this. It was better to stay home when I was like this, my bad moods always made me feel like a caged animal. I would spend all day acting like I was backed against a wall, snapping at anyone who came too close. My reputation had developed from many of these days at school, the hostility radiating out from me like armor. Only Jean seemed to be immune, and I didn’t want to take the chance with Mina. Let’s lull her into a false sense of security about my normalcy, so when I inevitably go ballistic about something minor it will come as a huge shock.

After showering and changing into my casual attire (grey sweatpants and the same hoodie I wore every day) I wandered listlessly around the house. Seven thirty came and went with no Hank, so at least I knew Hannes had delivered his message. Now I had the task of figuring out how to spend my time as a very long, empty day stretched out ahead of me. First thing, I dragged all my laundry into the washroom to sort. There were only two piles, school clothes and the things I can leave in the dryer for a million years pile, which was every other thing I owned besides my uniform. I begrudgingly brought Hank’s clothes in as well after I got the first load in the washing machine. He had been a bit lost in the domestic sense, now that there was no Lady of the House. There was only me, and I didn’t really know what to do either. Giselle had done such a wonderful job keeping house, that apparently a fully capable adult and an almost capable teenager were crippled without her. I suspected that had been the way she liked it, though. She was the master of the house, and Hank and I were like tenants. We followed the rules that were laid out for us and made minimal noise, and it worked out for the best.

I brought my computer down from my bedroom to the couch, where I camped out with several blankets in between getting up to change stuff from the washer to the dryer. Mostly watching stupid youtube videos, in between tabbing over to google to type in “depression” to erase it before seeing the results.

Was I depressed? I knew depressed people had trouble keeping friends. I didn’t think that was the issue though, it was that I hadn’t wanted any in the first place. It was easier to organize my life if there were as few people in it as possible. My world was very small, and for a long time it had worked. Clearly it hadn’t worked all the way to the end, since Giselle felt like much more than just ⅓ of my family unit. Now that she was gone, I didn’t think Hank even counted as a full third. He was more like ⅛ now, and I was the other seven. Just a family of Annie. I felt tears start to prick my eyes, and I angrily wiped them away with the back of my hand. Desperate for some kind of distraction, I switched back to youtube and typed in Yeager Bombs on a whim.

There he was, the infamous Eren Yeager, who was allegedly such a good friend of Jean’s that I had barely heard anything about him aside from this stupid youtube channel. I clicked one of his videos at random, and it was just him front and center giving some kind of heated review of a video game. He didn’t look like someone who had a Japanese sister. Pretty easy on the eyes though, he had some nicely tanned skin and large green eyes. Eyelashes like a girls, I decided. He had an extremely animated way of speaking, he wasn’t just using his words, he gestured and flailed to emphasize certain points.

Mina would probably have a lot of fun with him. I paged through the rest of his archive, surprised to see that Jean showed up in the description of several videos. My thoughts drifted to the other kid Jean had mentioned, my intended. Armin. Another cursory glance told me that he wasn’t involved in any of Eren’s youtube shenanigans, although I did catch a glance of who I was pretty sure was the infamous Mikasa, darting around in the background. It looked like I really would only meet this kid for the first time on Saturday. Jean said he was quiet, but that was it. The pit of my stomach started to hurt, thinking about all the things that could go wrong. He didn’t know what I looked like either, what if he was unhappy with me? I held no illusions about my ability to make first impressions. At best, I could be visibly uncomfortable and awkward. At worst, openly hostile.

My spiraling thoughts were interrupted by three sharp knocks on the door. Startled, I checked the time in the bottom right of my laptop screen. I had spent the whole afternoon pouring through Eren’s stupid youtube, it was already after school hours. Fifteen minutes after orchestra would have let out to be exact. Oh. Oh no. The bus would have taken longer to get here, and while Krista took public transit too, her route wasn’t anywhere near mine. But Krista had a buddy, Ymir. And Ymir had a car.

I sighed and lurched towards the door, wondering how sick I could make myself look in the twenty steps before I had to open the door to that little blonde menace. I had honestly completely forgotten about my promise the day before to go to Krista’s house. Shuffling forward, I twisted a blanket around myself and tried to muss up my hair, forcing my eyes to look even more downcast than usual. Finally, I opened the front door with a creak and let out a feeble “Hello?”.

Krista wasted no time screaming right in my face. “I knew you weren’t sick!” she shouted gleefully. “You’re such a faker. Why haven’t you been returning my texts, I told you I was on the way.” Pushing her way past me into the house, Krista started rummaging around like she owned the place. She neatly closed my laptop, picked up my keys and shoes and shook them at me. “Let’s go, now.” she ordered. With a sigh, I let the blanket fall around my feet and stepped over it to get to my phone. The jig was up, and it was better to face defeat with dignity. I crammed my feet into the tennis shoes Krista offered me and followed her outside. Her bored looking friend was down by the sidewalk, leaning up against her car.

Ymir was tall, and that was in general, not just compared to me and Krista. Her hair was dark brown, and she always wore it pulled back from her face. Somehow her skin was both extremely tanned AND freckled. I idly wondered what quirks in her family tree produced that combination as I slid into the back seat. While Ymir put the car in drive, I stared accusingly down at my cell phone. If I had seen Krista’s message, I would have left the house until I thought she had given up. Swiping the screen to unlock, I was met with an unheard of event. I had 10 unread text messages. So few people called me that I never spent a lot of time in the same room as my phone. Sometimes it would die and I wouldn’t charge it for days. Bracing myself, I clicked the message icon and scrolled down.

From: Jean  
Leonhart, where are you. Someone weird is going to sit next to me in English if you don’t show up in the next three minutes.

From: Jean  
Oh God it’s the guy who smells like cheese.

From: Jean  
This isn’t your way of backing out is it??

From: Jean  
You’re gonna break Armin’s heart, I already showed him a picture of you and everything. He didn’t say anything, but he turned the best shade of red. I didn’t get a picture of it, but visualize a tomato with a blonde wig.

From: Mina  
No science homework today, do the math problems on page 36. Even numbers only.

From: Jean  
Annie please text me back so I know you’re not going to disappear in the middle of the night.

From: Jean  
Sorry, ignore that last text. I’m an ass.

From: Mina  
Annie, please text Jean. He’s on the verge of tears about “the plan” falling apart. It’s making me uncomfortable and I’m just trying to eat my french fries here.

From: Mina  
Jean says he’s sorry if he made you mad. He said you’d know why.

From: Krista (Do Not Answer)  
The only way you are getting out of this is if you’re on your deathbed. Orchestra just got out, we are coming for you.

Before I could stop myself from saying it out loud, I busted out “How did Jean get a picture of me to send to Armin?”. Krista and Ymir both stopped their conversation and whipped their heads around, which in Ymir’s case seemed incredibly unsafe as she was driving. I frantically pointed at the windshield, and only resumed talking when all eyes were up front again. “Jean said he sent Armin a picture of me, but I don’t know where he got it.” Krista tried to meet my eyes in the sideview mirror without turning her head. “Is Armin the name of your mystery date?” she teased. Ymir snapped her fingers at me to get my attention, then asked “Armin Arlert? Is that his name?”

“I don’t know his last name. He’s friends with Eren Yeager-” is as far as I got before Ymir let out a bark of laughter and started slapping her dashboard. “Armin Arlert, oh god that’s priceless. I would pay money to see that.” I knew when I was being made fun of, and I didn’t like it one bit. “What are you talking about?” I said through gritted teeth. Ymir just chuckled again before answering. “Armin is the little dude who works in the bookstore side of the place I’m a barista at. Annie is going to eat him alive.” This second part was directed at Krista, who widened her eyes as pieces fell into place in her mind. “That shy blonde kid? Oh my god, he’s so sweet!” She whirled around to glare at me over the back of her seat. “You have to be nice to him, Annie. He’s the friendliest guy. Seriously, he is like a saint.”

Anyone else would probably have been bothered by the assumption that they wouldn’t be nice on principle to someone they just met, but Krista knew me, so I just kicked her seat in response. Nice was not on my list of good qualities. Speaking of which, my list of good qualities wasn’t looking so hot these days, since I no longer had honest or hard worker, usually my two standbys. I slumped against the window and thought about how this stranger had the Krista seal of approval, while I had a warning label. Luckily I didn’t have too long to think, as we were pulling into Krista’s long gravel driveway.

Alma’s car was absent, and when I caught Krista’s gaze she just quietly shook her head. So Alma was gone on one of her child free excursions. That was a blessing, since it meant I didn’t have to try to make smalltalk with her while she glared at me with the heat of a small sun. I was technically a Reiss by blood, even if I wasn’t the one who had screwed her over. She would settle for being mad at me by proxy. Krista shouted a greeting in the direction of the kitchen as she dragged me by the hand to her bedroom at the back of the house. Ymir flopped down on one of the couches and made herself cozy, giving me a shit eating grin as she disappeared from view. So she got the skip the little fashion show, that lucky bitch. I prayed this wouldn’t take long, it should be like ten minutes tops, right?

It took two hours. And tears. From Krista, but still. Finally she had coaxed me into one of the few dresses she hadn’t already re-hemmed or taken in at the waist. I didn’t even remember owning it, which meant it must have been something Giselle bought and put in my closet to surprise me. It was black and lacy, so I most likely had rushed to get it out of the house. It fit like a glove. The sick feeling in my stomach came back a bit, thinking about the care that went into choosing it, since Krista reassured me it looked fantastic. How long had she waited for me to notice the new addition and thank her? Did she expect me to see it and come down one day transformed, ready to throw away all my athletic clothes and become the debutante she always knew I could be? Well sorry mom, it was a nice dress but not a life changing one. It was just another gift that neither of us understood.

Krista carefully folded up the dress and put it in a plastic bag, giving me strict instructions to shake it out and hang it as soon as I got home. Thankfully dinner was ready to go on the table, and as I sat down I remembered that I still hadn’t answered Jean. While Krista’s Nan was distracted shooing Ymir away from the garlic bread, I pulled out my phone and typed out a quick message.

From: Annie  
Not dead. Or in Mexico. Nice to know you care so much. When you and Mikasa have your first baby name it after me.

Jean quickly replied with an emoji of a cat wearing sunglasses, and I shut my phone down before he could send anything. He just had to ruin it with something stupid.

Krista’s grandfather entered the room from the side door, where his shop was, and all of them sat down to eat. Everyone but me bowed their heads to say grace, even Ymir. She must be here a lot, she acted like this was her second home. The second the prayer stopped, it was chaos again, food being passed back and forth and everyone shouting to be heard. Krista and her grandfather argued about whether an order needed to be done tonight, or whether it could wait til Krista got home tomorrow. Ymir was busy fending off Nan, who was shoveling a monster sized portion of spaghetti onto her plate. And in the middle of it was me, in unfamiliar territory at the first family meal I could remember in who knows how long, not entirely unhappy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* I'm really happy with the number of views this has, so if you like the story would you mind leaving a kudos for me. That way I know if I should keep going. Guests can leave them too, if you don't have an account.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of Mina’s walls had a full length mirror that I could see from where I was standing, and I locked eyes with my reflection. I saw a sullen girl in shabby exercise clothes, with no makeup and her hair pulled back. The girl in the mirror reached up to tuck one side of her bangs back the same time I did. “I just want to look like me...I don’t want to try to look like somebody else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally get to meet the Shiganshina three! I'm sorry about the slow build, I feel so frustrated writing chapters where nothing happens but establishing backstory. I have so many great ideas for chapters, the problem is getting there. Enjoy, kudos and comments are as always appreciated.

Jean was losing it. My absence yesterday had gone unmentioned, in favor of more obsession about Saturday. Mina insisted that I get ready at her house for some girl time, then Jean could pick us both up there. She said she already had a dress. Her eyes glittered as she talked about how excited she was, and I had the sneaking suspicion that I wasn’t the only one who had found her way to Eren’s youtube yesterday.

Good for her, I was glad some of us were looking forward to it. I pushed my food around on my tray, and the only feeling I could muster up was dread. My social skills were seriously behind, I doubted this would be a pleasant evening for me and Saint Armin. The one I had to be nice to, or Krista would hunt me down like a bloodhound. Jean probably wouldn’t take too kindly to me scaring his friend, either. And when it came down to it, if there came a rift between me and Jean, I wouldn’t trust Mina to come down on my side. So in short, this one evening had the potential to shatter the small circle of friends I’d managed to acquire.

“Annie. Annnnnie.” Mina sang. “I said, how are you going to do your hair?” She gently slid my lunch away from me, she had obviously noticed I hadn’t taken a bite in ten minutes. Without the distraction, I was forced to focus on the question at hand.

I fidgeted. “What’s wrong with wearing it like this?”

Mina laughed for a few seconds before freezing. “Oh wait you weren’t joking.”

It was useless to glare at her, she was impervious. Luckily the glare didn’t go to waste when Jean piped up with “You’d better let her wear it like that, who knows what kind of condition it could be in after being in a bun for seven years.” Maybe he was immune now too, since he just gave me a shit eating grin before running his hands through his own dishwater blonde strands. “It’s okay, Leonhart. I know not everyone can have hair like this.”

Mina let out a long sigh and covered her face with her hand. “Jean, go time out.” He started to protest loudly, all while she just gave pointed glances between him and the chair at the end of the table, at least three seats away from us. Still grumbling, he eventually got up and flung himself into the chair, occasionally making comments loud enough for us to hear that contained words like “crazy” and “jealous”. But when lunch was over, he was right back at my side, rambling on like normal.

Before I knew it, Saturday was here, and I found myself on the bus on the way to Mina’s apartment. The bus took me past the public library, and I briefly entertained a fantasy of getting off at that stop and hiding out there until the dance was over. The library was where I had whittled away many hours during the excruciatingly long summer. The years before, summer break had always been used for intensive ballet classes. Hours a day, five days a week, until my whole body felt like it had been pulled apart and remade. All that effort, and I would never make it beyond the background.

That had killed Giselle. I had a vivid memory of her pulling aside one of the instructors, demanding to know why I had been passed over for yet another solo. My teacher, a kind woman undeserving of my mother’s wrath, had explained as diplomatically as possible that I was a very capable dancer, but lacked any kind of enthusiasm. Capable. That was the word that I could picture any adult in my life saying about me. I hoped I didn’t die young, what if that was all they could say about me at my funeral.

I forced myself to stay in my seat as we passed the familiar building, and only allowed myself to relax once we were far enough away that I didn’t feel there was any danger of me pulling the stop cord and making a break for it. Eventually it pulled up in front of Mina’s tall apartment building. The construction looked old, but fancy. A lot of the balconies had flowers, and I liked that. I had never taken care of so much of a cactus but liked to think that I was secretly a master gardener that hadn’t had the opportunity to prove herself yet. I climbed the stairs up to the third floor flat, and used the old fashioned door knocker to announce my presence. It wasn’t Mina that answered, but the woman who did looked so much like her that I had no doubts this was Mrs. Carolina.

Mina’s mother had her dark hair and the same wide smile, which I got to see a lot of as she pulled me into a hug. “Mina!” she shouted right into my left ear. “Your little friend is here, and she is adorable!” I’m sure it was the deafness setting in, she hadn’t actually called me adorable, had she? She pinched my cheek and beamed at me, putting one arm around around my shoulders to guide me inside. “It’s so nice to meet a friend of Mina’s, you’re the first friend she’s had come over. She talks about you all the time, and that nice young man taking you girls to the dance.”

“Jean. His name is Jean. And I’m Annie.” I told her, not sure what else to say. I didn’t know what Mina could have told her about me. “You have...a very nice home Mrs. Carolina. Very clean.” Smooth, Annie. Nailed it. Mention her housekeeping skills a few more times.

“Oh, call me Susan.” she laughed. “And thank you, but I can’t take credit for the cleaning. I have to have someone come in for that, I’d never keep on top of Mina’s mess without another pair of hands.”

A red faced Mina appeared from one of the open doorways and wrenched me out of her mother’s grasp. “Mooo-o-ooom.” She whined. “You promised you’d be cool. This isn’t like when Marco comes over, Annie probably doesn’t like you hanging all over her.” Susan feigned a look of hurt. “I am cool! I’m with it, Mina. I might go get a back tattoo while you girls are gone tonight.” Mina just shrieked and slammed the door in response. I listened to her mother’s laughter fade away as she left us in peace.

Good god. Mina’s room looked like a bomb had gone off. There were clothes on every surface, including under our feet. I didn’t see a bed for sure, just a rectangular shape of clothes shoved close to a wall. Did she sleep suspended from the ceiling like a bat? Mina noticed my silence and said “What?”, sounding slightly defensive. I couldn’t very well start off the evening by screaming that she lived in a nightmare hoarder nest, so instead I latched on to the friend’s name she had said earlier.

“So who is Marco?”

She shuffled her feet and got quiet herself, and I can’t believe I am fucking up this badly already. “He’s my best friend. He still lives in Sina, where I used to live before we moved here in June. My mom got a really good job offer, she couldn’t turn it down. He’s come up to visit a couple weekends, but I didn’t really have anyone to hang out with this summer.”

Mina looked like she might be on the verge of tears, and I realized how lonely the girl must have been. That explains why she still tolerated me and Jean, compared to the set in stone cliques at Trost the two of us had been a pretty easy group to break into. A summer with only your own thoughts for company can make you pretty desperate for human contact, as I was starting to know all too well.

I needed to change the subject and fast, and I picked the easiest route. “Mina,” I said carefully, “Will you do my hair?”

It was like Christmas had come early. Any sad thoughts disappeared as she bounded over a small pile of shoes to come closer to me. She started picking through my blonde locks, muttering to herself. “Fine, but thick...how well does it hold a curl? I have a large and small barrel curling rod if you didn’t bring yours. How many bobby pins do you have?” She saw my questioning look and smiled. “I love this stuff, this is what I want to do after graduation, cosmetology. I can do your makeup too, if you want?”

She paused then. “What do you want, Annie? What look are you going for.”

One of Mina’s walls had a full length mirror that I could see from where I was standing, and I locked eyes with my reflection. I saw a sullen girl in shabby exercise clothes, with no makeup and her hair pulled back. The girl in the mirror reached up to tuck one side of her bangs back the same time I did. “I just want to look like me...I don’t want to try to look like somebody else.” I said softly.

Mina probably had no idea what I was talking about, but she nodded anyway. Then she got down to business. “So where’s your stuff? Get in that chair, let’s let the magic happen.” My stuff amounted to the dress itself, and a few makeup items that had been rattling around in my bathroom drawer. I had never owned a lot anyway, and what little I had was probably expired. Mina sorted through it and plucked out some concealer, black eyeliner and mascara, then left the rest. She hummed to herself as she got to work settling me into a chair and dividing my hair into sections. I tried not to think about germs as she stuffed several bobby pins into the corner of her mouth.

“You’re lucky your skin is so nice.” She mumbled around the metal pins. “You only have a couple spots to touch up. I practically had to sand down my face before I put foundation on.” I had never noticed Mina’s skin before, which was hopefully a testament to her skill. Before she got to work, she shook my dress out of the bag and hung it close to the mirror, she said for inspiration. She approved of Krista’s choice, said it was very old world cool, whatever that meant. I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes, hoping I would still recognize myself when it was over.

It became obvious very soon that Mina was not one to work in silence, however. “So what do your parents do, Annie? Jean said your dad owns his own business. He must be busy a lot.” She said brightly.

I cleared my throat, “Um, yeah. He’s a gym owner. He used to be a boxer, but he went to school to school for his MBA before I was born. Said he would have to use his brain for something someday. I don’t see him a whole lot. He’s pretty quiet, we don’t have a lot to talk about most of the time.” I trailed off, hoping the conversation was over, but Mina wasn’t satisfied. “And your mom?” she prompted. My heart constricted a little. So Jean hadn’t told her after all. It was probably one of the only nice things he’d ever done for me. “My mom isn’t with us any more.” I said softly, then panicked when I saw Mina’s stricken face.

“She’s not dead!” I rushed. “I’m just not sure where she is now. She went to go live with her brother before the school year ended, but I’m not sure if she’s still there. She hasn’t tried to get in touch with us, besides sending the divorce papers to my dad.” I didn’t mean to add this last part, but I couldn’t stop the words from bubbling out of my mouth. “The papers said she was willing to let my dad have full custody, unchallenged.”

That pained look was still on Mina’s face, and I wasn’t sure how to make it go away. “What about your mom?” I asked timidly. Thankfully, she took the out and started talking again. “My mom’s a lawyer. My parents are divorced too, I see my dad for two weeks in the summer and winter breaks. He lives pretty far away, but we skype a lot.” Silence again. “So how did you and Jean become friends?” I groaned at her question, which broke the tension and made her laugh. “I’ve been stuck with that idiot since we were learning how to walk.” I answered while rolling my eyes. “Our parents were determined that we would be buddies, whether we liked it or not. I’m pretty sure his mom still holds out hope that we’ll realize we’re meant for each other and ride off into the sunset together.” “You’ve never felt that way about him?” Mina questioned. I made a gagging noise in response, which prompted another laugh from her.

Mina cleaned up nice. The taller girl had strapped on a pair of heels, and was practicing her walk up and down the hallway so her mother could admire her. Instead of her usual pigtails, all her dark hair was gathered over one shoulder and gently curled. Her grey eyes looked enormous, ringed with black and a liberal coating of sparkly eye shadow. The dress she wore was a bright aqua blue color, with scalloping around the neckline and a small cutout in the front to show off her flat, tan stomach. She looked like she could pass for twenty five.

In contrast, I felt like a baby. I grabbed the hem of my dress and scrunched it between my hands, thinking dark thoughts about Krista. I was in a black, lace A-line that fell to my knees. It had a wide v neck in the front and back, but it also had sleeves. Sheer sleeves, that didn’t quite make it to my elbows, but sleeves. Mina’s mother assured me that the effect was elegant, rather than old fashioned.

My hair was still pulled back, Mina had managed to soften the overall look with hair pins instead of a hair tie, with the curling rod used on the few pieces I kept near my face. Makeup was minimal, just a few touchups with the concealer and little eyeliner applied with a light hand. Mascara for emphasis. I had refused her offer of red lipstick, only accepting a slightly sheer lip balm that she gave me from her own collection. I still looked like me, only what I would look like after a week of good sleep and all the vitamins I didn’t get in my usual diet. No heels for me, I stuck with the cheap black ballet flats I had unearthed from under my bed the day before. My eyes kept gravitating to the mirror in the living room, while we waited for Jean. I looked...delicate. Almost graceful.

The knocking on the door hadn’t even stopped when Mina flung it open. Jean was standing there, his hand still outstretched, and he appeared shocked at her appearance. “Geeze Mina, how long are your leee-gs oh hey you must be Mrs. Carolina!” He had finally noticed Mina’s mom sitting in the same room, and she just rolled her eyes and chuckled. Jean spared a glance at me as well, and his eyes widened as he did.

“Man, Annie. You look...really nice.” Should I say thank you, because his amazed tone was kind of pissing me off. I turned a critical eye to his own outfit instead. He was wearing slim black pants, and an olive grey button up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Logically, I knew Jean wasn’t a bad looking guy. He was tall, and thin, with rangy muscles. He didn’t carry a lot of bulk. His dumb face looked pretty good too, besides the fact that he was always making some asshole comment or smirking at something I’d done. But there was nothing there between us. After you’ve spent your childhood pushing someone down into the sandpit while he screamed for his mother, you lose the ability to be romantically attracted to them I think.

Jean spread his arms out wide and proclaimed “Ladies! Your chariot has arrived.” Mina and I both looked him up and down, but she said it before I got the chance.

“I don’t think you can carry both of us Jean.”

The snorting sound I made was very unladylike, and Jean glared in response. “The car.” he hissed. “The car is here. And unless you want to walk I’d suggest you get down to it with a minimum amount of sass.” He spun around on his heels and started to stalk off, but after a few steps he popped back in the door frame and made eye contact with Mina’s mom. “Very nice to meet you Mrs. Carolina.” he said pleasantly, then resumed pouting and made his way down the hall.

Susan got up to hug us both and wished us well. “Annie, you should come back here with Mina when this is done. Slumber party! Girls night and all that.” I wasn’t sure what available surface there was to sleep on if I stayed, so I just told her that I appreciated the offer but my dad expected me home. Susan patted my cheek and turned her attention to her daughter, fiddling with the ends of her hair. “Be safe, have fun.” She ordered, tugging at the end of one of her curls. Mina smiled, “Yeah mom, I know. Love you.” Then she grabbed my hand and we were off.

Jean had an Escalade, and it may have been the biggest car I’d ever seen. “How much does it cost your parents to insure you?” Mina asked in disbelief. “Mom says I’ll have to sell a kidney on the black market it I get in an accident, but it’s it bitchin cool! Plus I can give everyone a ride, no one has to split up to take another car.” Jean answered, climbing into the driver’s seat. The ride over didn’t take long, and I started seeing building I recognized after awhile.

I hadn’t been to Jean’s house in some time, but I’d spent a fair amount of my childhood there. Briefly, I wondered at never seeing Jean’s neighbors before, but Beth had probably told them to make themselves scarce on the days I was there. She and I both knew Giselle’s opinions on unattended brats, as she called most children. She must have thought it would make my mother more comfortable without strange kids running around. I asked Jean this in the car, and he gave a harsh laugh in response.

“Yeah,” he said. “Your mom came over once to drop something off and yelled at Eren for leaving his bike in the road. He still ranks it as one of the scariest things to ever happen to him.”

Great. What a legacy to live up to. Soon we were pulling into Jean’s neighborhood, and three figures detached themselves from the front of the house to the right of his, and made their way down the steps. One of them was waving with wide, sweeping gestures. Jean muttered “Yes, Eren. I see you.” as he pulled the car up in front of the house.

Eren came bounding down the steps with all the enthusiasm of a golden retriever puppy. He had on a plain white button down, topped off with a blue tie. The girl behind him descended much more gracefully, probably because of the 4-inch spiked heels she wore. Her sleek black hair stopped just above her shoulders of her dress, which were decorated with elaborate cutouts and straps. The rest of the dress was black, and very short. Knee length my ass. I was going to strangle Krista with my bare hands.

I was so busy thinking of creative torture methods that I almost missed the third person coming down to meet us. I turned to look out the window again and saw that Armin was indeed blonde, and had longer hair than most boys. It was almost as long as Mikasa’s, and fell in a mop that covered his face to his eyebrows. His cheeks were round, and were those dimples?? And was he actually wearing suspenders over his red dress shirt? Oh god. Well at least I wasn’t going to be the only dork at this thing. Eren ripped open the front seat door and shouted “Hiii!”, and the evening officially began.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No blushing and looking at his feet, or turning his attention to someone less creepy. I liked him already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Springles Incoming!  
> This chapter and the next one were originally one monster chapter, but I decided to stop and split them so I don't make your eyes bleed from wall of text. The next chapter will be posted tomorrow most likely, I won't make you wait long. Enjoy! Feedback is love, feedback is life.

There was nothing left to do but get out of the car for introductions. The three of us unbuckled ourselves and climbed out, joining the others to make a loose circle on Eren’s front lawn. Jean took over, I guess he was going to be the party leader for the night.

“Right. Guys,” he said, addressing Mina and me first. “This is Eren, my neighbor, his sister Mikasa, and my buddy Armin. Other guys, this is Mina and Annie.”

Mikasa scanned both of us with a disinterested look, while Eren leaned over to give Mina a confident handshake. I was too busy trying not to look at Armin, standing to my left, that I didn’t notice when he stretched his hand over to me as well until an awkward length of time had passed. I jolted forward, placing my stiff hand in his. Eren gave me a genuine smile, the kind that lights up your eyes too. At least someone was legitimately looking forward to the evening.

Jean and Mina were both looking at Mikasa, Jean with big moon eyes and Mina with a cautious grin. The object of Jean’s affection wasn’t looking at any of us, rather she was inspecting something utterly fascinating about her manicure. Clearly she didn’t feel obligated to make anyone feel more comfortable. While Eren and Jean launched into an argument about who was going to drive Jean’s car to the school, (Jean couldn’t believe Eren would be stupid enough to think he could be trusted, Eren couldn’t believe Jean didn’t trust him), I took advantage of the situation to take a closer look at my date, thinking he would be watching the action.

There was no such luck, because Armin Arlert, the nicest boy in the world, apparently didn’t live by the social norm of polite staring out of the corner of your eye, like I had the decency to do. Instead, he was full on staring, his upper body turned in my direction. He did have the common courtesy to blush though, when I caught him. The flush to his cheeks made him look young, even though I knew he was at least 16 like me. I wasn’t that much shorter than he was, he probably topped the charts at 5’5. Slim, but not scrawny. His cheeks were round and his nose turned up ever so slightly at the end. He had eyes like Krista’s, large blue pools that absolutely radiated hope and trust.

Jesus, Ymir was right, I was going to eat this boy alive.

I felt sorry for him already, being stuck with me all night. Both us seemed to realize at the same time that we had been making a creepy amount of eye contact in silence for a long time, so Armin extended the olive branch first. “Armin Arlert,” he offered. “It’s really nice to meet you Annie.” There was no handshake from him, probably because he and everyone else noticed how alien I acted towards Eren’s.

I kept staring, wondering there was a point where he would look away. My mother always called my gaze “intense”, and Jean would go to his grave swearing that I blinked much less than other people. It was a game, seeing how new people would react to such unflinching attention. Armin, for all his boyish appearance, met me straight on. No blushing and looking at his feet, or turning his attention to someone less creepy. I liked him already.

“Annie Leonhart, and likewise.” I said. Another long silence, before I gestured to Eren and Jean still in the middle of their spat. “They always like this?” Armin laughed. “You haven’t seen anything yet, this is just how they show they’ve missed each other.”

Eren had Jean in a headlock as we speak.

We watched them tussle a little longer, with Jean finally throwing Eren to the ground and raising his arms triumphantly. Mikasa let out a little yelp and shouted “Mind his shirt!”, immediately rushing over to brush invisible dirt of Eren’s shoulders. He shrugged her off with a growl, before perking up again. “Shotgun!” he called, looking in the direction of the car.

“Eren, don’t you want to sit with your date?” Jean reminded, slinging an arm around Mina. “Oh, right, sorry Mina.” Eren answered, looking slightly embarrassed. Jean clapped his hands together once and announced “Okay then, Mikasa sits shotgun, Eren and Mina in the middle row, and smallest go in the back.”

Apparently no names were needed for that last part, as all four of them turned heads at once to look at me and Armin. Armin took it much better than I did, laughing as he started heading towards the vehicle. He hoisted himself inside as Eren and Mina waited behind me. I eyed the space between the ground and the car floor with distrust. Jean’s car was truly massive, to get in the backseat at Mina’s I had literally had to crawl up, which seemed decidedly less graceful now that there were witnesses. A hand suddenly appeared in front of my face, and I looked up to see Armin leaning down towards me. “Come on, I can give you a boost.” he said cheerfully. After hesitating a moment, I took him up on his offer and was hauled into the interior with surprising strength. Definitely not scrawny then.

We made our way to the way back as Eren and Mina climbed in after us. Jean put the key in the ignition but stalled putting the car in drive, making eye contact with Eren in the rear view mirror instead.

He folded both arms across his chest and sternly said “Eren, this car does not move until everyone is buckled in, understand?” Eren just laughed in response, saying “What are you, my mom?” Mikasa stiffened slightly at that, which I doubt anyone noticed but me since the rest of the car was preoccupied with how red Jean’s face was getting. “No,” he insisted. “I’m MY mother, who will murder me herself if anything happens to this car or anyone in it. God forbid you kill yourself, there would have to be a double funeral after she was done with me.” Eren continued arguing about safety and car crash statistics, but he did so while buckling the offending seatbelt so Jean put the car in motion.

Our drive took us to the edges of what I considered my neighborhood, and a couple blocks past that Armin nudged me with his elbow and pointed at a house we’d long passed. “That’s my house.” he offered. I looked at him with surprise. “We’re practically neighbors then. Anything less than a mile away is close by, to me.” Armin’s block was full of small houses, some kind of shabby looking. But they were also lucky enough to each have a yard, a truly rare thing in this city. My street was so crowded with townhouses and apartments that I would have to walk three blocks in any direction to see a single patch of greenery.

“What do you use your yard for?” I asked, and my eyes must have conveyed my genuine interest because he lit up at the chance to move past the smalltalk. “My grandpa has a garden, not a very big one, but he has a lot of autumn harvest right now. Pumpkin, squash, that kind of stuff. He grew up on a farm, and I think being able to grow anything helps him miss it less.”

“Your grandpa lives with you and your parents?” I asked. I had never met anyone who lived in an inter-generational home before, and the house looked too small to support three adults and one teenager. Armin’s smile wilted a little on his face, and he looked down.

“No.” he said quietly. “Just my grandfather and me.” Shit. They had to be dead, right? No one is unlucky enough to have both parents leave them, and Armin looked like a loveable kid. I desperately looked for something else to spark conversation, but the only things I could see were the other passengers. It might be in poor taste to talk about someone while they are sitting less than two feet away from you, but I had nothing to lose.

“So how do you know this one?” I asked, angling my head towards Eren to show my meaning. Armin followed my eyes and smiled again. He had a nice smile. When I smiled, I looked like I was up to something. Armin looked like he had discovered something amazing.

“Eren and I have been in school together since we were little kids, he was my first friend. Then when Mikasa came along, I got to know her too. The three of us have just always been together since then.” Something must have flashed across my face when he mention that Mikasa “came along”, because he just shook his head in response to my unasked question. Later, he mouthed. Eren interrupted us by leaning back into the space between his and Mina’s seats.

“Armin.” he said, “Do you think Sasha was serious that she and Connie were going to be late tonight because they were stopping at Denny’s before.” Jean shouted from the front, “No way, if they’re late it’s gonna be because Sasha’s dad is out of town and they couldn’t resist that empty house.” Mikasa stopped looking out the window to actually join the conversation, musing aloud “If Sasha had to choose between food or sex, I have a feeling Connie wouldn’t be happy with the choice.” I met Mina’s eyes and shrugged, I was just as lost as she was. My friend raised her voice to be heard above Jean’s laughter and asked the assembled “Who are Sasha and Connie?” Eren finally stopped invading my personal space to swing forward and answer Mina’s question.

“They’ve been our friends forever, and Connie finally sacked up and told her how he felt about her, so tonight is kinda their debut as a couple.” He leaned forward to punch Mikasa lightly on the shoulder. “Sasha is pretty much Mik’s only girl friend, so she’s upset her partner in crime is leaving her alone to the single life.”

Jean grumbled incoherently at the mention of single life, and Mikasa reached out to lightly touch his arm. “Eren.” she said warningly. “Okay fine,” Eren amended. “She really left me to the single life, since she’s usually my date to these things. She really knows how to tear up the dance floor. You guys will really like her.” He made sure to turn around and make eye contact with me too. Eren Yeager was hell bent that everyone was going to have fun tonight, whether we liked it or not. “What about Connie?” I asked. Eren made a dismissive noise before he replied. “Everyone likes Connie, it would be impossible not to.

The conversation came to a halt as we pulled into the school parking lot. Rose High School was quite a few steps down from Trost, the buildings small and dark, the parking lot full of holes. A chain link fence surrounded the campus. It was a change from the rolling green lawns and bright windows of my school. The lot was packed full of cars, and Eren whooped in greeting at a few people who passed us by. Armin motioned for me to stay in my seat, sliding out before me. He turned after he exited, lifting both arms to help me out. He didn’t make it feel as patronizing as it looked, I got the impression that he would have been this helpful to anyone.

Trying to hold on to my little scrap of dignity, I reach over to plant both hands on his shoulders, then came down with a little hop. The skirt of my dress drifted upwards in a cloud at the movement, showing off more smooth pale leg than I was comfortable with. Mortified, I searched his face for some sign that he had noticed, ready to come out guns blazing at any sign that he had taken opportunity to peek. But Armin Arlert was a gentleman, and only a faint flush on his cheeks betrayed that he had even noticed my predicament.

I gripped the hem of my skirt between my fists, muttering to myself once again about what a stupid thing it was. “I think you look really nice.” he told me earnestly. My head whipped up to search his for any clue that he was making fun. His sincerity just made me angrier, because he couldn’t even recognize how ridiculous this was.

“Look at them.” I ordered, pointing at the retreating backs of Mina and Mikasa, who were already halfway to the building. “Now look at me. I look twelve.” He giggled in an entirely unmanly way. “You do not look twelve.” he tried to reassure me, but I just fixed him with a stare.

“You are wearing suspenders, you are not qualified to comment on anyone else fashion sense, good or bad. We look like it’s school picture day, in the third grade.” I broke off abruptly and started following the group, leaving Armin trailing behind me. He offered up only one weak protest, sounding unsure as he said it. “Eren said these were cool.” Eren, the ultimate authority on coolness, was currently engaged in a footrace with Jean to see who could open the door for the girls first, his tie flapping in the breeze. I said nothing, because the situation spoke for itself.

I had never been to a dance before, and the movies had not prepared me. It was simultaneously more intense yet less interesting than I had imagined, if that was possible. It was hard to navigate through the crush of bodies, and the music system tried weakly to keep up with the noise of 300 teenagers crammed into the same gymnasium. I knew Trost rented a banquet hall for all our formal dances, but at Rose it was held in the same gym that they used for athletics. The whole place kind of smelled like feet. Their principal, who stood at the door and introduced himself to me as Dot Pixis, wore a plaid blazer and ruffled Eren’s hair as he passed. I could have sworn I saw a flask at his hip in the brief moment before he refastened the buttons of his jacket, and the wink he gave me only reinforced that thought.

Once inside, Eren frantically scanned the crowd looking for the last two members of the group. He tried jumping up and down for a better vantage point, and when that failed to give him the results he wanted he eyed Mina with a smirk and grabbed her around the waist. Before she knew what was happening, he lifted her up, holding her tight around the legs, screaming for her to look for Sasha and Connie.

Mina didn’t seem to mind the imposition, but she was a terrible lookout when she keeps breaking out in giggles.

Mikasa shouted over the din, “That’s not gonna work, she doesn’t even know them. How would she know who to look for?” Eren looked behind her to make eye contact with Jean, then nodded once. In an instant, Jean had Mikasa up in the same position as Mina. “Let me down!” she screamed. “Find Sasha!” Jean screamed back. Mina and Eren screamed too, caught up in the enthusiasm. “The faster you find her, the faster you come down.” Jean called up to her, a smug look on his face. Mikasa eyed him thoughtfully, then turned to look out over the crowd. As she did, one of her hands crept up to scrub through Jean’s carefully manicured hair. Jean gave a yelp, visibly trembling with the effort of holding her steady. “Stop that!” He shrieked. “It won’t look the same after you’re done messing with it!” She continued looking, a smile playing across her face at Jean’s discomfort. Abruptly she took her hand away, shouting “Found them.”

Approximately five seconds later a tall brunette girl had plowed through the people dancing in front of them like a train, trailing a shorter boy by the hand behind her. Mikasa slid out of Jean’s grip just in time for the girl, presumably Sasha, to fling herself into her arms. “Mikasa!” Sasha screamed. She turned again. “Eren!” “Armin!” She got to Jean. “What’s-his-face!” Jean tossed his head and tried to look offended, clearly this joke had played out before. The boy with her rubbed one hand across the top of his head and looked at Mina and I. “Hey, I’m Connie. This hurricane here is Sasha.”

Sasha turned her attention to us, gasping as she slapped Jean in the arm. “These girls are cute, Jean! How come you’ve never brought them around before. Eren and Armin have been single forever and you’ve been holding on to this?” Jean slapped her back. “Mina just moved here Sash, and Annie used to be a hermit.” The group dissolved into random conversation, each person fighting to he heard above the noise. At some point Eren put his arm around Mina, and she leaned against him like she’d been waiting all night.

Everything about this situation made me incredibly uncomfortable. The amount of people, how close everyone was standing to one another, the excitement they had when they saw each other, the physical touch. Everything. I shrank into myself more and more each moment until I thought I would shatter into a million pieces. I didn’t know how to join in the conversation, and I couldn’t laugh off the barb about me being a hermit. Instead I waited for the first chance that everyone was distracted by Sasha trying to drag Jean out on the dance floor, and I quietly slipped away. My small size made it easy to maneuver through the crush, and once in the lobby I waited for principal Pixis to take a hidden swig of his flask before darting behind him into a dark hallway. I wandered through locker bays and back hallways as the noise grew distant behind me.

Once it was more or less silent, I tried a couple classroom doors at random. Most were locked, but the one at the end of the hall opened at my touch. It was the auditorium, I had found the door to the stage. Someone must have forgotten to lock it down when they decorated the school for the night. I fumbled along the wall until I found the light switches, flicking them at random until I found one that illuminated the stage from a single source in the center. For a shabby school, the auditorium was beautiful. I could see red velvet seats for the audience, and the floor beneath me was real wood. It reminded me a lot of the theater my dance recitals had been held, and as soon as the thought struck me my body itched to move.

I hadn’t done any kind of activity more taxing than walking a couple blocks in months. My body had to have gone downhill, that muscle tone lost completely. Slowly, I walked to the center and raised my arms lazily above my head. There was so much space, and no one around. Just a few quick moves to see what I was still capable of, that’s all. I started with a pirouette, spinning gently, the only sound the soft tap of my shoes against the wood as I brought my foot down. Closing my eyes, I imagined myself as the sugar plum fairy, the swan princess, roles I had never wanted but seen many times.

Kicking off my cheap flats, I lifted myself onto the balls of my feet, keeping my spine straight and my arms outstretched. Spinning in wide circles, I traveled quickly across the floor, relishing the familiar burn in my muscles. It had been too long, but I still remembered. The skirt of my dress flared out around me and I came back to the center, turning faster and faster until I collapsed to the floor, arms coming to rest above me. I stayed still for a moment, keeping time to the rise and fall of my chest, until my peace was broken by the sound of a solitary pair of hands clapping. My eyes flew open as I found the source of the noise, a figure leaning against the wall by the door, who came into the line once he knew he’d been spotted.

Armin Arlert ignored my furious look and smiled at me, looking for all the world like he had just discovered something great, and said “You’re a really good dancer.”

I had never been so pissed off.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He cleared his throat and caught my eyes. “The, uh..the dance is over.” No. There was no way three hours had gone by since we had arrived. I said as much, and in response he turned his phone screen towards me. I could see the text from Jean, which read “If Annie hasn’t strung you up somewhere, we’re waiting at the car."

I rose to my feet as elegantly as I could, since I was barefoot and my skirt was all dusty. “How long have you been spying on me?” I questioned him, focusing all my attention on cleaning myself off so that I wouldn’t have to look at him.

“Not long.” he reassured me. “I mean it, you’re really good.”

I spared a glance at him then, rolling my eyes. “You’ve never seen a really good dancer, that was passable.” Stiffly, I edged past him to pick up my discarded shoes, heading towards the door as I did so. He followed, clicking off the light behind him.

“You do this often?” he said lightly, “Sneak away from the party to go frenzy dance somewhere?” I stopped when he was almost out the door, whirling around so we were face to face and I was blocking his exit. Our height difference was negligible from this distance, I didn’t have to crane my neck up at all to fix him with a glare. “You make it sound like I’m a crazy person.” I protested sharply. “Well I’m not, I just wasn’t having any fun at your stupid dance, and I needed something to do to stay awake. Nobody seemed to miss me, did they send you after me to make sure I didn’t run away and ruin Jean’s perfect evening?”

My voice got louder and louder as I continued, by the time I ended I was shouting and my cheeks felt warm. Furious, I brushed the hair back away from my eyes and waited for him to give me a disgusted look, or a frightened one. Anything that showed he had finally clued into what a mess this was. But instead his face was calm, and his quiet question caught me off guard.

“What would you like to do?” he said calmly. I stepped back a bit, allowing him into the hallway. “What?” I said, confused at his meaning. Patiently, he repeated himself. “What would you like to do, Annie? You said you’re not having any fun, and this isn’t really my type of night either. So, would you like to just hang out the two of us for awhile? If you want to dance again, I swear I won’t watch this time. If you want me to leave, I can do that too. What do you want?” His calm demeanor threw me for a loop, and I got the feeling that he wouldn’t be one bit offended if I told him to hightail it out of my sight.

“You..you can stay.” I said hesitantly. “Is there anywhere we can go that I don’t have to hear those idiots anymore?” Now that we were in the hallway, I could hear the shouts and music coming from the gym. Armin nodded once, then headed down one of the dark hallways, turning back once to make sure I was following. He lead us through the empty school until finally he pushed on the right door to take us outside. It looked like some kind of courtyard, a few picnic tables scattered around the grass. He slid onto the bench of the closest one, and I took my seat opposite him. We were alone, just the night breeze and muffled sounds of the city surrounding us. I stayed still for a moment before sighing in relief.

“Thank you.” I said softly, and he gave me a smile in return, shrugging one shoulder. “My friends can be intense.” He consoled me. “We’ve known each other so long, we don’t really stop to think about how someone new could feel left out.” I thought of Mina, looking right at home in the shuffle. “Not everyone.” I told him, and he caught my meaning right away. “Your friend is really nice, she and Eren are getting along pretty well, it looked like.” he said. Eren’s name reminded me of our conversation in the car, so I brought it up again, hoping the solitude meant I could hear the whole story. “So, Eren and Mikasa…” I said, one eyebrow raised. “Not a lot of sibling resemblance there.” Armin’s smile slipped off his face, and I was sure that he would put me off a second time. But he braced himself, and enlightened me on the tragic story of how he and Eren turned into he, Eren, and Mikasa.

Eren Yeager was born in a house with two loving parents, who doted on him at every stage of life. Armin remembered Mrs. Yeager as a kind, beautiful woman who never minded when a stray kid showed up at her doorstep. Grisha Yeager was a doctor who pulled long hours at the hospital, he came and went as he pleased. Eren knew that he saved people, he went most of his childhood thinking he was a superhero. Likewise, Mikasa Ackerman had also been gifted parents who adored her, the only difference is that hers had the misfortune to die.

In front of her.

It was a home invasion gone wrong, and the thugs involved thought they had gotten rid of the witnesses. They were shocked at the eight year old girl who timidly walked down the stairs as they were almost done searching the house for valuables, roused from sleep by her mother’s screams. She had waited alone for twenty minutes, too afraid to call 911 on her own. The thieves, low life scum that they were, balked at killing a child so settled for knocking her unconscious and disappearing into the night. When she woke up, she was an orphan. Her only living relative, her father’s youngest brother, was still finishing up his university education, and the courts didn’t see him as a suitable guardian.

So off she went into the foster system, which brought her right into Carla Yeager’s loving arms. Carla had always wanted more children and had barely put in their application to foster before they got a call about the lost little girl. Mikasa flourished under her care, and spent three happy years with them. She and Eren were siblings in all but blood, it was as if they hadn’t spent most of their lives apart before then. With Armin in the fold as their unofficial sibling who lived in another house, the three of them were inseparable, and Carla was thrilled to finally have the house full of children she had always dreamed of. It was perfect, for awhile.

“How did she die?” I interrupted Armin’s story, because I could see that this wasn’t heading towards a happy ending. My stomach twisted in sympathy for all three of them, and I hoped until the very second Armin answered that my intuition had been wrong. “Cancer.” he said bleakly. There was no way to fight it, it was too late. Three months from diagnosis she was dead, living out the last month in the hospital, away from the home she loved. The courts descended again, and Mikasa was sent away to live with the uncle she barely knew, finally finished with his education. He found a house where she could continue going to school with them, so as not to uproot her life even further. Armin said he was good to her, if a little sharp around the edges, and he was a teacher at this very high school. But she missed the comfort of family life, of siblings.

Eren fought Grisha for a full year to try to bring her back, but Dr. Yeager’s half hearted attempts at filing for custody only brought his own subpar parenting into the light. Grisha, a man who kept erratic hours and barely made the time to look after his own child, could not be trusted with an unrelated traumatised girl, especially if she had a blood relative willing to take her. So Eren languished in his lonely house, spending most of his days with the Kirstein family. He and Mikasa still swore they were brother and sister to the end. Armin told me that Levi, Mikasa’s uncle, was even taking Eren on a family trip with them this summer to Paris, where he had studied. “He said I could go too, if I wanted.” he added offhandedly, “But I think I’m going to pass.”

“Traveling not your thing?” I questioned, and he shook his head. “No,” he insisted. “I would love to see France, I’ve read so much about it. My parents went there on their honeymoon, I still have all their pictures. I’d love to go and find the places they saw.” He sounded wistful towards the end, so I pressed on. “What’s stopping you then?” He stared down at his hands, twisted them together as he thought about his answer. “The plane..” he said carefully. “I don’t think I could handle the plane ride.” I laughed at that. “You’re not going to see much of the world then, if you’re afraid of flying. It’s not that bad, don’t be a scaredy cat and you’ll be fine.” The laughter died in my throat as he looked at me, eyes glinting with something that looked briefly like anger. Clearly I had touched on a sensitive topic. It passed quickly, and he took his turn questioning me.

“So you’ve been on a plane before, where did you go?” he asked. “Spain.” I answered. “My parents look a trip for their fifteenth wedding anniversary and brought me along. It was okay. My passport photo looks like ass though, 14 wasn’t a good year for me.”

Armin leaned forward, eyes shining with curiosity. “Where did you go, how long did you stay? Did you sightsee a lot, or did you stay in the cities?” he urged, and I didn’t know where to begin. I hadn't really talked about the trip before, the people I spoke to the most had been on it with me, and Giselle had filled the Kirstein's in on it herself when we got back. 

“We stayed in Madrid for a bit, then we went south to Seville. I saw the Alhambra, and the Alcazar. My mom wanted to see the ocean, so we spent some time at the beach near the end.” At the word ocean, he sighed and practically melted into the table, laying his head down on the surface.

“I’ve never even seen an ocean.” he moaned into the rough wooden slats of the table, covering his face in frustration. 

Inspiration struck, and I pulled my cell phone out of the little purse Krista insisted on lending me. When I got a new phone last year, I had switched transferred my old sim card, and all my pictures from the trip were still there.

“Here, look.” I coaxed, and he lifted his head slightly. As soon as he realized what he was looking at, he moved as if to pry the phone out of my hands, he was in such a hurry to swipe through the gallery. I refused to let go, so we both bent awkwardly toward the middle of the table, our heads close together so I could see which picture we were on and provide context. It took me a long time to register we were essentially holding hands, at some point he had stopped actively trying to take my iPhone from me and had settled for curling his hand on top of mine. Time passed, the silence broken every few minutes by a question from Armin or some commentary from me when the pictures jumped location. I hadn’t realized how late it was until Armin’s phone beeped in his pocket.

The noise made us both retreat back to our sides of the table, and I waited for him to read whatever message he had gotten. He cleared his throat and caught my eyes. “The, uh..the dance is over.” No. There was no way three hours had gone by since we had arrived. I said as much, and in response he turned his phone screen towards me.

I could see the text from Jean, which read “If Annie hasn’t strung you up somewhere, we’re waiting at the car.”

Armin stood up and turned towards the door back into the school. “We should get going, if we take too long Pixis will just lock the doors and we’ll be stuck.” The prospect of being stuck somewhere with Armin Arlert didn’t sound as bad now as it did at the beginning of the evening, but I got up anyway. He opened the door for me, and we retraced our steps through the school.

With no context, he stated “You don’t really like to dance, do you.” I stared at him as we walked. “Why would you think that?” I asked, because I had stopped grimacing through performances years ago. I had seen videos, I kept my face perfectly composed at all times.

Armin grinned but wouldn’t make eye contact. “Because you looked much happier when you had your clarinet.” he answered. I stopped dead in my tracks, and he walked a few steps before he realized and turned towards me.

“How do you know what I look like when I play?” I asked accusingly. Was this the part of the night where I was going to find out he had a shrine of me in his basement, and he’d been stalking me my whole life? It’s a good thing Mina looked good, she was going to be interviewed by the cops tonight on the last moment she’d seen me alive. I wondered if she could cry on command for the reporters. But Armin just looked confused.

“The picture Jean sent me.” he clarified. “It looked like you were in a music class at your school.” So that was it, that was the photo Jean was talking about that he sent Armin. He was craftier than I gave him credit for. My anger at being tricked must have been written all over my face, because Armin backpeddled like a champ. “I’m sorry.” he blurted out. “I realize now that must have been taken without your knowledge, I thought it was kind of weird there was so much doorframe in the shot. Oh god, now it’s like I’ve been spying on you. I feel like a creep.” He hissed in a breath, and turned his face upward to stare at the ceiling. Even in the dim light, I could see his cheeks were bright red. "I'm sorry. You had no idea, did you. It's just...when I saw that picture, I thought that you looked really beautiful...because it looked like you were doing something you really loved.  And now it's like I stole that moment from you, because you didn't mean for anyone to see it." He turned around dejectedly. “Come one.” he said over his shoulder. “We can take turns punching Jean at the car. You can go first.”

“Can I see you again sometime?”

There was only silence after I called out, and I moved forward so we were walking side by side again. He looked at me, eyes wide.

“I’d like to see you again, if you want to see me.” I said again. Armin’s round cheeks split into a wide grin, all boyish enthusiasm. “Y..yeah! I would love that, Annie.” I nodded once. “Good.” I said, and then we were outside the front doors, the car in view. Sasha and Connie waved in our direction, then took off to the other side of the parking lot. Mina had sleepily drooped on Eren’s shoulder, and she was barefoot. Eren was holding her shoes while he kept up a conversation with Jean and Mikasa over Mina’s head. Mikasa didn’t even look ruffled, every hair still perfectly in place. I wondered if she had danced at all, or if she just stood in one spot to collect admiring looks all night.

Jean shouted at Armin and I when we approached, earning a loud shush from Eren. Armin repeated the drill of getting in first to give me a lift up, and the whole lot of us drove back in silence. Mina slept, and Eren nodded off not long after. He looked like he had gone through a tornado, his tie was missing and I think a button had popped off his shirt. Mikasa and Jean softly hummed along to whatever songs came on the radio. I didn’t say another word to Armin, I was too busy relishing the comfortable quiet. He was the first one to get dropped off, and he gave a soft knock on my window once he was outside, in lieu of saying goodbye. Jean waited until he had unlocked his door and waved us off before driving to my house next. I counted streets as we went, and discovered Armin lived exactly ten city blocks from me. The front living room light was still on, I had left it so I wouldn’t come home to total darkness. Jean shot me a grateful smile as I climbed over Mina’s prone form, and I nodded at Mikasa. She answered it with an evaluating stare before nodding herself. Letting myself in, I twisted to to wave at Jean that it was okay to leave, and when I turned back into the living room I was surprised to find my father there, a book in his lap.

“Hank. Dad.” I gasped, almost dropping my clutch and keys. I hadn’t expected him to be home. He shut the book with a snap and gave me a look. “Is this what kids are wearing these days.” he teased. “You’re sixteen, shouldn’t you still be going places in braids and overalls. All dressed up, you look like..” I cut him off. “I know, I look like Mom.” He stared at me for a moment, his eyes going soft. “Actually, I was going to say you looked like MY mother.” he finished. “Grandma Leonhart?” I said incredulously. I had only known her as a terrifying Dutch woman, her stark white hair in perma curls. “In her younger days.” Hank reassured me. “She was a looker, just like you, kiddo.” He patted the top of my hair, then drew his hand away wincing. “What’s in there, a bear trap?” I reached up to pluck out one of the bobby pins. “Mina’s handiwork.” I informed him. He smiled knowingly at the mention of Mina’s name. “I’m glad you’re branching out, kiddo. Did you have fun tonight? Was that boy nice?”

I waited a moment before answering. “Yes.” He looked confused, and repeated himself. “Yes you had fun, or yes he was nice?” By this point I was already walking up the stairs, ripping pins out of my hair as I went. “YES.” I called behind me, and I could hear his laughter long after I closed my bedroom door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back through the previous chapters and cleaned up a bit. The song lyrics as titles are gone, since they were just from whatever I happened to be listening to while writing. I decided they weren't really adding anything to the story. Comments are welcome, you have no idea how happy they make me. Enjoy!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well Armin, I have two losers in my living room making fun of my social grace and mooching off my cable. But I had a free donut, so at least I’ve got that going for me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Messed with the formatting for this one, hopefully it makes it easier to read. I was concerned about dialogue getting lost in the big long paragraphs. Love it, hate it, let me know. You can skip the authors note at the end if you're not super invested. Thanks!

The sound of my phone ringing at the ungodly hour of (I checked the screen) 10:30 am woke me up the next morning. Jean’s name was on the caller ID, so I hit accept and answered with a wordless growl. There was only uncontrollable laughter on the other end. I hung up. He called back, just with more hysterical giggles. I hung up again. This repeated twice more before he actually answered with words, wheezing out “Annie, please tell me that the two of you dorks did not leave last night without giving each other a single way to contact each other.”   
Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. I shifted around so I was sitting up. “I told him I wanted to see him again, do you think he wants to get together soon?” Jean broke out into another fit of laughter. 

“Annie, he has been ringing my phone off the hook since 7:30 this morning, and that doesn’t count the text messages he sent me at 1 am. I told him I wasn’t going to risk waking you until now, I know how bitchy you get when you don’t sleep in on weekends. Trust me, he wants to see you. Now, add him to your secret facebook account, and maybe you can finally add me too, if I’m finally in your circle of trust.” 

I had no idea what he was talking about. “Secret facebook account?” I said blankly. “Yeah, you know. The one you’ve never friended me on, which is rude, by the way.” Jean answered. Only silence on my end, until finally the gears must have lined up in Jean’s head. “Oh my god!” He shrieked. “Are you 80? Do you even know how computers work? How do people know you’re still alive?” His ranting went on for a little while longer until he broke down in one last unintelligible cry, then the call ended. 

Of course I didn’t have a facebook, Jean. I doubt anyone would be impressed with my whole two friends, and my albums full of pictures of me cleaning house, doing homework, or reading a book. The party never stops in the Leonhart house. I knew what it was, of course, I’m not an idiot. It just didn’t seem like something my life was lacking, until now. 

Fully awake at last, I swung out of bed and got ready for the day, which just meant clean hair and new daytime sweatpants. Hank was already gone, of course, so I would have all Sunday to myself. Sometimes he came home for dinner on the weekends, usually not. All my homework had been done on Friday, so there was a large amount of free time stretching ahead of me. At noon, I was already considering the pros and cons of an afternoon nap when the doorbell rang. 

When I opened the door, Jean continued his earlier rant from the phone as if an hour and a half hadn’t just gone by. “Seriously.” he insisted. “Are you a ghost? Teachers can see you in class, can’t they? When I told my mom I was coming over here, I wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find out you were her grandmother and had been dead for thirty years, come back to haunt me and kick my ass.” 

I was seriously considering that ass kicking, but then Mina popped her head out from behind Jean’s shoulder. Beaming, she held up a box of donuts. “We brought breakfast!” she said cheerfully. 

Even I couldn’t resist a donut bribe, I wasn’t made of stone. I stepped aside to let them pass by, noticing that Jean had his laptop messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He stuck a thumb at Mina as he came through the door. “I brought this one,” he informed me, “so that when you start hitting me she can take over. I figured you probably wouldn’t punch her.” 

“No.” I said very seriously. “The girl code dictates that all our fights have to be done with scratching and hair pulling. No closed fists.”

“We also have a sacred obligation to fight in our underwear, but only if there are no boys to see us.” Mina chimed in. 

Jean threw himself onto my couch with a groan. “You chicks,” he pointed at us, “are going to be the death of me. And I’m going to pretend every word of that is true, as payment for coming out here to introduce you to the world of social media. Now, give me your phone.” 

Unsure of where this was going, I handed my phone off, watching him punch in some numbers while giggling to himself. He passed it back to me, and I noticed that it was open to a new contact screen, one whose name read “Put your left ARMIN”. I stared at him for a few seconds, until he started humming the Hokey Pokey under his breath. I was not impressed.

“Oh come on! I’ve been waiting so long to introduce Armin to someone and do that!” Jean protested. I halfheartedly raised one hand, intent on giving him a slap to the back of the head, but Mina quickly uncurled my fist to replace it with a chocolate longjohn. With sprinkles. Crisis averted. 

Seeing that my attention was elsewhere, Jean snapped his laptop open. “Okay Annie, first I’m going to need your email address. I’m assuming you just use your school email, because you’re lame and have no life.”

“I’m not lame.” I mumbled around a mouthful of donut. “I have a personal email, you dick.” 

Jean paused, and then sighed. “It’s just your school email name at gmail.com, isn’t it.” No comment from me. “Jesus, Annie. You should be more embarrassed about that than if you had one like sparklebabe98. That’s boring. You’re boring.”

I choked a little. “Oh yeah, then what’s yours, genius?”

He didn’t even look at me, just kept typing away. “jeannotjohn. atgmail.com.”

Damn that was good. I resumed my sulking.

“Okay, so if I’m right, you should be able to register at ABL731atgmail.com.” Jean continued. My phone chimed with an email alert a second after. “Dammit Annie.” He shoved his laptop over and patted the spot next to him on the couch. “You’ll need to verify that you signed up, then enter all your personal information that I don’t care about.”

Throughout this exchange, Mina had been wandering the front hall and stairwell, looking at all the family pictures. “Jean!” she called out. “She’s going to need a profile picture.”  
“I was getting to that!” he shouted back to her, then turned to me with a grin. “My mom found the greatest picture ever of the Halloween when we were four, and we went as power rangers. You’re clearly hating every part of it, if looks just like you.” 

“...was I at least the yellow ranger?” I asked. This wasn’t familiar to me at all, and I was afraid of the answer. 

Jean’s grin only got bigger and he shook his head. “Pink ranger all the way, baby.” 

This could not stand. I stood up, abandoning my task of entering in my school education as far back as grade school. “Mina.” I said desperately. “Take a picture of me.” 

Her phone was already in hand as she flew into the room. She had an arm around my shoulder in no time, her face squished up against mine. Phone held high, she squealed “Smile!” right into my ear, and then I was blinded by a flash. As soon as she released me, I sank back into the couch.

“I’m blind.” I said to no one in particular. Jean, not one to feel sympathy, just took over the computer again. Mina squished herself into the small space between me and the arm of the couch and shoved her phone screen in front of me. “Look.” she commanded. “It’s so cute.”

Mina looked so cute. I looked slightly scared. My eyes looked huge, I had been bracing myself for the camera flash. I definitely wasn’t smiling, but I wasn’t scowling either, so it was as good as it was going to get. Mina pulled her phone back and started typing. “I’ll upload it to my account, then I’ll tag you in it.” she explained. In a second the page Jean was working on received a notification, and he quickly added it as my profile picture. 

“There.” he announced, shifting the computer over to me. “It’s finished. You’re a real girl now.” 

There it was. Annie B. Leonhart. Attends Trost Prep School. Birthday March 24. (Wrong, Jean.)   
One picture. Two Friends. Wait, three friends. Four friends? I watched as the little flag kept popping up, more notifications rolling in. 

Eren Yeager has accepted your friend request.  
Mikasa Ackerman has accepted your friend request.  
Krista Reiss has accepted your friend request.   
Sasha Braus has accepted your friend request.  
Connie Springer has accepted your friend request.

Jesus Christ, did these people live on the computer? My account was all of 2 minutes old. I stopped judging all of them though when the last notification came through.

Armin Arlert has accepted your friend request.  
Write on Armin’s wall?

I stared at the screen, then noticed that Mina and Jean had crept into my peripheral vision, watching me. “What?” I snapped. This was way too many people in my personal bubble, Mina was practically on my lap. 

“Talk to the poor guy, he’s dying to talk to you.” Jean said, the same time as Mina burst out “No, not on Facebook, text him!” 

“Stop shouting!” I shouted, even though no one had raised their voice but me. I sprang away from the couch, the sudden absence of space causing Mina and Jean to crumple into one another. I hoped they hit their stupid heads together and forgot about this whole thing. 

Pacing the small space of my living room, I eyed the phone in my hand. “What do I even say?” I asked the two of them. Mina clapped her hands together giddily, while Jean rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, Annie. Just talk to him like he’s a normal person. Like you talked to him last night. Treat him like you’d treat Mina. I would say treat him like you treat me, but I hate you, so you’re not off to a great start there.” 

Mina stopped her clapping briefly to smack Jean’s shoulder. “Just find out more about him, Annie.” she suggested. “What did you guys talk about yesterday? What do you know about him?”

“Well..” I hesitated. “I know he’s been friends with Eren and Mikasa for a long time...and that he wants to travel the world. He might go to France this summer.” 

My train of thought ended when I noticed Jean shaking his head. “France isn’t happening for him.” He said bluntly. “The guy is too afraid to step foot on an airplane. We tried to take him to Disneyworld on our family vacation with us one year, he freaked out at the boarding gate and we had to cancel our tickets to take him home. Unless you can drive to Paris now, Armin’s not going.” 

Armin had mentioned not liking to fly, but I didn’t know it was that bad. “What happened?” I asked softly, and then worried more when I saw Jean get a pained look in his eyes. 

“Look, Annie..” he said, as if unsure he should be telling me. “It’s Armin’s story to tell, but...his parents died when they were overseas. They were in a small plane, and there was a problem, but that’s all I know. He doesn’t like to talk about it, so I would really suggest not bringing it up. He’s my friend, and I don’t want you to say something that would upset him.”

Thinking it over, I nodded once. “Right, so don’t mention his parents died in a horrific plane crash, got it.”

“Annie!”

“I was joking!” I shot back. “Geeze, Jean, how heartless do you think I am? Do you think I was going to try to bring up the fact that we both lost parents as a conversation point??”

Heavy silence filled the room. Jean had the good grace to look down at the floor, but Mina looked at me like she was going to get up and hug me any second. “Forget it.” I muttered, then hurried up the stairs. I stopped at the top step, sitting down so I could still hear the noise in the living room. Jean and Mina had clicked on the television and were starting to quietly argue over what movie to watch. I stared at my phone again and then opened my contacts page with a sigh. 

From: Annie  
Hello, this is Annie Leonhart. Jean gave me your number. 

Less than a minute went by before my phone chimed in response.

From: Put your left ARMIN  
Hey Annie! It’s nice to hear from you. Sorry I didn’t get your number last night. How is your Sunday going?

Well Armin, I have two losers in my living room making fun of my social grace and mooching off my cable. But I had a free donut, so at least I’ve got that going for me. 

From: Annie  
Fine. Jean and Mina are here. 

From: Put your left ARMIN  
That’s cool. I’m at Mikasa’s house with Eren. You guys could come over here if you want, we usually just play videogames on the weekends. 

I tensed up. Having two people in my own house was already uncomfortable, I didn’t think I could handle being at a stranger’s house too. Especially if it meant watching Jean make moon eyes at Mikasa the whole time. 

From: Annie  
I can’t today. We just got settled here, I don’t think they want to leave. 

“If anyone asks you to hang out today, we’re busy!” I yelled downstairs. Jean yelled back, “Yeah, our social schedule is just JAMMED PACKED isn’t it?”

“Come back down!” Mina called. “We’re watching Harry Potter.”

I shuffled back down the stairs and slunk into a chair far away from the dynamic duo. As I sat down, Armin’s response came through. 

From: Put your left ARMIN  
It’s okay. Are you too busy to text? Mikasa and Eren are playing something and I’m kind of the third wheel here.

I glanced at Jean and Mina, who were busy arguing about which one of them would be sorted into Gryffindor. 

From: Annie  
Kind of the third wheel here too. 

From: Put your left ARMIN  
We could play truth or truth? It’s where I ask you a question, but I have to answer it too. Then it’s your turn.

From: Annie  
Fine. But if you ask me where the bodies are buried and I tell you, that makes you an accomplice.

From: Put your left ARMIN  
Over text it’s so hard to tell if you’re joking. I’ll start.   
What’s your favorite color? Mine is green.

So the afternoon passed. I learned that Armin’s favorite food was pizza, his favorite book was The Hobbit, he didn’t have a favorite band, he liked everything, which I told him made him more hipsterish than if he had only one band he was just super super into. Jean and Mina continued to make snippy comments to one another about who would totally be in Hufflepuff, and when I interrupted them to ask which house I would be in, I was a little insulted that they both said Slytherin so quickly. 

Before I knew it, I heard the sound of a key in the door and Hank walked in, carrying a pizza box in one hand. He looked shocked at the sight of not one, but three teenagers camped out in his living room. “Jean, nice to see you. And this young lady must be Mina.” He turned to look at me, entirely too pleased at the living proof that I had actual friends. “You guys are going to stay for dinner and keep an old man company, yes?” 

Jean and Mina stood up, looking guiltily at the clock. “Sorry Mr. Leonhart, we didn’t realize it was so late. We can go, we don’t want to eat all the food you got for you and Annie’s dinner.” Jean said. 

Hank saw that they were eyeballing the lone pizza box in his hand, and moved to hide it behind his back. “Oh, this? I wasn’t sharing with that ungrateful urchin.” He winked at me as he set the box down and picked up the phone. “Pepperoni okay with everybody?”

Soon we were all sitting at the table, three pizza boxes spread out. (One just for Mina, who ate like she had a tapeworm.) Jean and Mina filled up most of the conversation, while Hank just ate in silence, smiling at the pleasant atmosphere that a houseful of happy people can create. I shot little looks at the phone, which was now full of messages from Armin. 

I reread all of them before I fell asleep that night, clutching my phone like it was something precious, trying to commit all the things he’d told me to memory. I woke up the next morning with a cramp in my hand from holding it too tightly, and a new message alert.

From: Put your left ARMIN  
Good morning. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I had a hard time updating this chapter. I spent all last week home sick from work, so I had plenty of time to write and brainstorm new chapters. This week I was back to a 40 hour work week, which was mostly closing shifts. I like to write at night, so it was really cutting into my fanfiction time. I'm going to try to aim for at least 2 updates a week now, maybe more. I have the whole story outlined, so it won't be abandoned any time soon. I have a plan!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So quiet I almost didn’t hear it, he gave me one terrified request before he started moving. “Annie please don’t throw up on me, this is my favorite shirt and I would hate to have to burn it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hange inbound!
> 
> Kudos and comments are always welcome and encouraged. 
> 
> If you are triggered by vomit, you may not want to read any of this chapter. The cliff notes version: Annie gets sick. Really sick.

There were people at our lunch table. New people. People who usually had the good sense to sit far, far away from me while I was just trying to binge eat in peace.

Mina stood next to me, unsure where she should go. “Do you know them?” she whispered to me, a frown line crinkling across her forehead. “Should we find another table?”

“No, we could be sitting at a lunch table on the moon and she would still find me, Mina.” I said, giving up and walking towards the usurpers. I set my tray down with a slam, looking at the ringleader as I did so. “What do you want?”

Krista gave me a smug smile as I sat down. “I didn’t text you yesterday so I could give you your space, but now I want details. How did it go? Did you behave? Is Jean still speaking to you?”

Ever the gracious host, Krista turned and flashed Mina the same blinding grin. “All those questions apply to you, too. I want to hear everything.” Mina just looked at her, confusion written all over her face. “I’m sorry, but...who are you again? Were you there the other night, or did you just monitor our tracking devices?”

 

I sighed, setting my head in my hands. “Mina, this is my cousin Krista. That’s Ymir next to her. We are not friends.”

Ymir looked up from the book she had been reading. “That hurts, Ann. I thought we had finally reached the next stage of our relationship.”

“Do you actually care that we’re not friends, Ymir?”

“Not at all. I wish I was sitting alone. I’m only here because if you don’t tell Krista something about your weekend, she will literally die.”

A chair screeched to my right, and I lifted my head to see Jean settle in next to me. “Now this is more like it, all the ladies love Jean.” He tipped his chair back, balancing on two legs as he allowed us to bask in his presence. “I always knew my natural charisma would win you two over.”

Krista ignored this extreme display of ego, she was so focused on her goal. “Jean, how did Saturday go? Did Annie make him cry?” She leaned in eagerly, eyes shining. “Are they dating now?” she whispered, practically quivering with anticipation. Jean laughed, “Jesus, Krista, you make it sound so scandalous. They just text each other, he called me this morning and was all Annie this, Annie that, Annies so cool, it’s disgusting. Not dating yet, neither of the dorks have made plans to meet up.”

“Uh, I am literally sitting right here, in front of you, and I’m not deaf.” I reminded everyone, feeling more than a little peeved. Krista held up her hand in the STOP position, blocking me from her view. “Mhm, that’s nice honey, adults are talking.” she said dreamily. “Now Jean, how did Annie’s dress look? Did she look pretty?”

“Right here!” I squawked. “The living, breathing Annie is right in front of you, you see me, right?” I directed this at Mina, who looked around for a second before asking Ymir “Did you hear something just now?”

Ymir stifled a chuckle and shrugged her shoulders. “Just the wind.”

“Everything went fine.” Jean assured Krista. “She didn’t even wear her hoodie over the dress like I thought she would.” Krista nodded sagely. “That’s because I cut one of the seams open at orchestra on Friday when she wasn’t looking.”

“I knew it.” I muttered darkly into my mashed potatoes. I had even brought the damn thing to school today to ask Krista to mend it, the traitor.

Something caught Ymir’s attention over Jean’s shoulder, and she gave him a sly little smirk. “You’re about to lose your title as king of the table, Reiner and Bertolt are coming over.” she informed him. Jean’s eyebrows furrowed together, and he had enough time to sputter “Who are Reiner and Ber-” before a strong hand clapped him on the back, hard enough to send him flying forward into the table’s edge.

“Whoah, sorry buddy. Didn’t mean to scare you!” A booming voice said, and I turned around to see it belonged to a tall, blond guy with close cropped hair who was built like an nfl linebacker.

“I’m dying.” Jean wheezed, desperately looking for someone to care. Clutching his chest dramatically, he repeated for emphasis. “I am DYING here.”

“This is Reiner.” Ymir informed the table as he sat down next to her. Reiner caught my eyes and gave this a slight roll at Jean’s theatrics. I liked him already. He and Bertholt sat together with Krista and Ymir at lunch every day. Sifting through my memory, I realized that Reiner was always Krista’s date to school functions, and she mentioned sometimes going to watch his football games. Every so often, she came to school wearing a comically oversized jersey with BRAUN splashed across the back, the owner of which must be the lumberjack sitting across from me. Was this her boyfriend? Krista never talked about dating anyone...which was strange, considering her fascination with love.

A soft tap on the empty space next to me caught my attention, and I turned my head to see the tallest kid I’d ever seen gently setting his lunch down. I was staring, I couldn’t help it. He snuck a glance at me out of the corner of his eye, and a dark red blush crept up his cheeks. “This is Bertolt!” Krista cheerfully announced. He gave a timid smile to the rest of the table, then quietly starting eating. I recognized him, now that I was looking closer. He was in Orchestra with Krista and me, in the strings section. He played cello, very well actually.

“Bertolt doesn’t talk much, but don’t worry, Reiner talks enough for three people.” Ymir drawled, flipping her book open again. Jean gave little glares to the two new males infringing on his territory, who didn’t spare him any glances at all. Mina meekly asked Krista if she was in first period Gym with her, which led to a lengthy rant about the injustice of being expected to perform physical activity at 8 in the morning. I just sat there, gritting my teeth and hoping this whole interlude would be a one time only thing.

It was not. They were there every day that week. And every day Bertold chose the seat next to me, which was fine because at least he didn’t insist on asking me inane questions. Maybe he picked that spot because he knew I would leave him alone too. Whatever it was, I was grateful for the shared solitude.

I didn’t hear much from Armin that week either. Aside from a few good morning/goodnight texts, he had sent me a regretful apology about his busy-ness during the week. He had his hands full with homework, tutoring other students, and helping his grandfather. I tried not to let it bother me too much, but Hank had also been very busy. His pleasant mood on Sunday had evaporated, apparently something had gone wrong with payroll at the gym and he was working even later than usual to try to fix it. The house felt unbearably empty now that I knew what it was like to have friends in it, but I was hesitant to ask Jean and Mina over again. Which turned out to be a good thing, since Mina had come down with the plague.

She hadn’t come to school on Friday, sending me a text message about having the stomach flu that had worked Jean up into a fit all through first period. “Do you think we’re going to get it too. We spent a lot of time with her yesterday.” he whispered frantically to me in between taking notes.

I sighed. “Jean, you have to do more than just sit next to someone for that to happen. You would have had to like, kiss her or something.” My head snapped up and I zeroed in on him. “You didn’t..?” I questioned.

“No no no.” He hissed, visibly shuddering at the thought. “You girls are like...the obnoxious little sisters I never had. That’s gross.”

“Thanks man.”

“No! You’re not gross….well, Mina is right now..normally you guys are like, kind of hot..but-”

“Jean, you’re sitting in timeout at lunch.”

By lunchtime though, I had forgotten to impose Jean’s punishment, too distracted at the fluttering going on in my stomach. Nervously, I pushed the food around on my plate, unwilling to take a bite. This couldn’t be happening, I hadn’t been sick in so long...I glanced despairingly at the clock. Three hours left ‘til I look the bus home. A long, pothole filled twenty minute drive. Gritting my teeth and scrunching my eyes shut, I  tried to will my stomach to stay quiet. The lunch hour passed in a blur, feeling like fifty years and fifty seconds at the same time, before I noticed Jean calling my name, his hand on my shoulder.

He looked terrified.

“Annie...uh...lunch is over. Do you think we should..you know..go to class.”

I glared at him and he actually jumped back a couple feet, like a frog. “Jesus, Annie, you look like shit. Do you want to go to the nurse?”

“No.” I spat out. “I’ll be fine.” The lunchroom was practically empty, Jean and I were some of the only ones left. I carefully stood up, weaving in between the chairs on the way to the door, filled with determination. I can do this, I thought. I’m going to get through this day, go home, put on my comfy sweatpants and throw up in a mixing bowl. Everything will be fine.

I stopped, causing Jean to walk into me and stagger, because all of a sudden everything was _very much not fine_ , so I sprinted to the women’s restroom and promptly threw up on the floor.

I sank down onto the cool tile floor and tried to roll away from the pool of vomit. I could hear Jean’s voice on the other side of the door, still in the hallway. “Annie?! Oh Jesus. Are you okay?”

The only thing I could do was moan in response, which just made the panicked tone in his voice worsen. No Jean, I’m not okay. I just threw up what felt like everything I’ve eaten in the past two years. Things are not going great.

“Okay, okay, okay….just, hold on. I’ll get someone.” he pleaded, and then I heard his footsteps disappear down the hallway. I tried to let my mind clear, concentrating only on the pattern of the tiles. I will be one with the floor, because floors don’t have the delightful experience of throwing up half digested frozen waffles. After an unknown length of time, a pair of Dr. Martens entered my field of vision and planted themselves right in front of my face.

“Annie.” The voice above me did not sound pleased to be standing there. Thanks Jean. A school full of someones, and he found Ymir. I tored my eyes away from the floor with great effort and rolled them up to look at her. From my vantage point, she seemed impossible tall, a giant towering above me. The ceiling light shone around her like a halo, making it difficult to read the expression on her face.

“Jean said you were dying in here. I expected more than this. Like, broken bones, or an alien baby.” She gestured vaguely at my former breakfast. “What should I tell him? He looks like he’s going to piss himself any minute now.”

I tried to speak, but had to settle for groaning when the words came thick and sluggish out of my mouth. The sound of it hurt my ears, so I gave up and went back to trying to melt into the dirty floor. A shrill voice called out from behind the closed door, “Is she okay??”

“She’s just being dramatic.” Ymir called back. I knew I must be delirious, because the voice outside had almost sounded like Jean. Which was impossible, because I had never heard him sound this concerned about anything since..well, since he had come to school a couple years ago worked up about how his dipshit neighbor had thrown the Wiimote threw his parents new television. Now that I knew the dipshit neighbor in question, the story would be even more amusing when I thought about it later. Thoughts for another time, though.

I lifted my head to give Jean some kind of reassurance of my survival, but all I succeeded in doing was unleashing another wave of vomit, hot and sticky and perilously close to Ymir’s shoes. She calmly stepped out of the way, and a second later I was surprised to feel a cool hand on my forehead, preventing me from collapsing into the mess. Or I would have been surprised, if I had been capable of feeling human emotions anymore.

As if from a great distance, I heard Ymir sigh and start to address Jean through the door. “Right. So, Jean, I’ll get her to Nurse Hange’s office, and while I do that you need to go find Krista in Mr. Dietrich’s chemistry class and see if she can contact Annie’s folks to come get her.”

“No folks. Just one folk.” I mumbled, and felt Ymir brush my hair back with uncharacteristic gentleness. “I know.” she murmured softly, then went back to ordering Jean around. “First though, you need to come in here and help me get her on her feet.”

Silence from behind the door, Jean’s timid voice answered. “But..that’s the _girls_ bathroom..”

“We’re not naked in here, moron! Just get in here and help us!”

The door hinges screeched, and I heard soft footsteps come to my side. “I’ll get her shoulders, you grab her around her waist. And lift slow, I’m turning her head so she throws up on your side if you’re too rough with her.” Strong arms cradled me, and then on a count of three I was ever so gently lifted to a standing position, where Ymir left her arm hooked under mine to keep my upright.

“Okay!” she said with forced cheerfulness. “So very, very carefully, we’re going to Hange’s office so you can be her problem.” Very carefully indeed. We shuffled there more than walked, and along the way Ymir snagged one the the tiny trash cans next to the water fountain so she could keep it under my face. A couple students saw us and stopped to stare, but I couldn’t summon the energy to care. My dignity was gone. I was Annie, half human, half floor. Floors don’t feel shame.

Eventually we made it to our destination, staggering inside the school nurse’s office. Nurse Hange looked up at our arrival, and her original look of concern was replaced by one that showed entirely too much interest at my misery. She leaned back in her chair and grinned, shouting through the open doorway that connected her office to the guidance counselor’s. “Moblit! We got another one.”

Ymir led me to one of the beds and didn’t so much as rest me on it as shoved me there, while Mr. Berner appeared in the room, giving me a nervous look. “Third one today, and there were eight yesterday. Do you think it’s viral, or maybe something in the food…” Hange continued, pulling her messy hair back into a ponytail so she could hook a surgical mask behind her ears. The tall woman stayed seated, using her feet to scoot her desk chair to my side, eyes bright behind her thick glasses. “Any fever? Chills? Was it sudden, or have you felt sick for a few hours?” her muffled voice questioned me, fingers groping for my wrist to check my pulse. Behind her, Mr. Berner wrung his hands with a pained expression on his face.

“Whatever it is, just call her parents, like the others. The longer she stays here, the more people get infected if it is something contagious.” Moblit Berner eyed Hange as if she was touching a nuclear weapon instead of a sick 16 year old. I pitifully tried to swat Hange’s hands away from where she was poking my stomach, then pulled the thin prison quality sheet over my head. Maybe they would all be gone when I uncovered myself. Maybe I could stay here until school let out and all the lights turned off, and I could finally get some peace.

Instead yet another person entered the already cramped room, and I could hear Jean’s panicked voice whisper to Ymir. “Krista tried calling Hank, but the desk clerk wouldn’t put her through. Said he was in a meeting and couldn’t be disturbed. Krista can’t take her...Alma is home and would lose her mind.”

Mr. Berner’s sigh echoed in the small space. “Keep trying to reach her father, Hange. The school day is almost over, she needs to be picked up by a parent or guardian. Call her mother’s place of employment and tell them it’s an emergency if you have to.”

Moblit left the room, and the click of the closing door was almost loud enough to cover the sound of the soft intake of breath that escaped when I thought about them calling Giselle. Telling her I was sick. Expecting her to come take care of me. Ymir and Jean didn’t hear, thank goodness, but the woman at my side had better ears than they did. I could see Hange’s eyes soften above her mask, and she reached up to push my bangs away from my sweaty forehead.

Pushing the desk chair away, she tugged the mask down and turned her attention to the healthy teenagers. “Does she have anyone else who we could call to take care of her? Jean, isn’t your mother listed as her emergency contact now?” That was news to both of us, judging by his face. Jean turned positively green at the thought of me, in his house, exposing him to all my germs. He put on a brave face though, forcing himself to regain his composure. “She is.” he said defeatedly. “I can call her, give me just a sec.” Jean was interrupted from pulling out his cell phone by the quiet voice next to him.

“I can take her.”

Hange and Jean turned to stare at Ymir. I would have been staring at her, but another wave of nausea compelled me to stick my head far down inside the small trash can Ymir had gotten me earlier. My laugh echoed inside the container, hurting my ears, but I couldn’t help it. “You hate me. What are you going to really do, take me out to a field and shoot me?”

“Yes, and if I’m feeling kind I might even dig you a grave afterwards. No, loser, I’m going to take you back to my house and watch you this weekend to make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit. God knows your father won’t do it.”

Everyone in the room went still. I was still inside the trash can, but I could hear the sound of Ymir’s breathing, ragged and louder than normal, as if she was holding back some great force. “Don’t talk shit about my dad.” My reply came through gritted teeth, laced with anger.

“Fine. I won’t talk shit about your sterling example of fatherhood. But the point stands, you have nowhere else to go, you can’t be home alone like this. So stop bitching while I get my car. I don’t think they’ll let us steal that trash can, so because I’m nice I’ll roll the window down for you to hang out of.”

“Like a dog.”

Yes Annie, like a god damn dog, now shut up. Sick people shouldn’t talk.”

Nurse Hange interrupted, not because she cared about our snippy words, but because of a logistical concern. “School is still in session, I can’t release a 16 year old into the custody of _another_ 16 year old and let them leave campus. It would be a nightmare if Moblit and Erwin found out.”

“I’m 17.” Ymir shot back.

“And that’s very interesting, but you are still not 18, nor are you her guardian.”

Ymir looked ready to spit fire, and opened her mouth to shoot off with yet another snotty remark before Hange held out her hand.

“But. Once school hours are over, I really can’t control where she goes. So, if she were to stay here until classes were over, I wouldn’t really have a choice who takes her home as long as she goes willingly.”

They seemed to get the point. Ymir nodded, looking at Jean. “Meet me back here after last period. I’ll need help getting her to my car. I’ll get Hank’s number from Krista, I’ll take care of letting him know.” Jean’s visible relief at no longer being responsible for my well being was all too obvious. He practically sprinted out of the room, only looking back to spare me a sympathetic glance. I gave him the finger, leaning forward to vomit again as I did so.

When I came up for air, he and Ymir were both gone, and Hange was leaning over me with a glass of water and cloth to wipe my mouth. “I have to take that trash can back.” she said carefully, “But I do have your very own bucket you can use.” She tugged the trash can from my weakening grip, replacing it quickly. I groaned and sank down to my side, cradling my new bucket to my chest. Closing my eyes, I tried to block out any sound in the small office, sure that the slightest noise would distract me from my new goal of going fifteen minutes with hurling.

The new goal wasn’t working out. I threw up twice more, and each time Hange would manifest at my side to coo encouragements at me and dab at my mouth with a cold wash cloth. The second time she sat on the edge of my bed instead of in her chair, and when I moved to lay back down she curled an arm around my shoulders to guide me back.

The unexpected nurturing gesture must have short circuited my brain, because rather than lie back, instead I shifted so I fell towards her, resting my head on her collarbone. One second, two seconds passed, and oh god was it possible to die of sheer embarrassment? But then I felt her other arm circle around me, as she gingerly pulled me inward to complete the hug I’d started. I hadn’t been mothered in so long, and there was a physical ache inside me that longed for the human contact that meant somebody cared, that I was safe and looked after.

A few tears fell from my tightly shut eyes, staining the front of Hange’s scrub top. If she noticed them when she pulled away, she didn’t say anything. She rested me back and tucked the blanket in around me, smiling as she did so. “So, someone is a snuggle bug when she doesn’t feel good, huh?

Like a petulant child, I shook my head back and forth and glared at her. She just chuckled to herself and went back to her desk, flipping through some papers and occasionally glancing at the clock. I turned away from her, cheeks burning, trying to hide my shame at being weak in front of her. My hand came up in a fist to furiously scrub away the tears that had escaped, then I stuffed my hand in my mouth part way and bit down, trying to concentrate on the pain instead of the ever present rolling in my stomach.

Final bell had barely rung when Jean appeared back at my side, holding my backpack in one hand. “I made sure to get all the stuff you’d need for homework this weekend.” he offered, sentence trailing off as he took in my pitiful state. Hange looked over at him, turning back into the practical nurse. “You’ll probably have to carry her to the car, she’s got to be very tired now. Make sure Ymir knows to give her lots of fluids, and if it gets worse bring her to a doctor. It’s most likely a 24 hour bug, if she’s still sick on Sunday, doctor. And here.” She ripped a page out of the notepad on her desk. “If you have any questions, if anything seems weird, call me.”

Jean pocketed the information and turned back to me. “So, piggy back or bridal style?”

“Excuse me?”

He sighed. “I’m carrying you, and it’s going to be awkward for both of us. So I’m giving you a choice, piggy back, or in my arms.”

“Oh god, piggy back then. This isn’t a damn romance novel.”

I shakily sat up in the bed, scooting around so my legs dangled off the sides. It was one of the rare good qualities of being so tiny, this probably wouldn’t be too taxing on Jean, even if he did have weak spaghetti arms. Hilariously enough, he decided the easiest way to leave his hands free was to wear my backpack on the front of his body like a baby bjorn. He gave me a warning look as he threaded his arms through the straps, and I kept my mouth shut. This was my ticket out of the nurses office, I would have plenty of time to bring it up later.

He crouched in front of me, and I looped my arms around his neck and he reached behind him for my legs. After he made sure he had a firm hold under my knees, he ever so gently stood up, my body weight shifting down so my eyes could barely peek over his shoulders.

So quiet I almost didn’t hear it, he gave me one terrified request before he started moving. “Annie please don’t throw up on me, this is my favorite shirt and I would hate to have to burn it.”

I snorted, then settled for resting my cheek against the broad expanse of his back. To his credit, Jean made sure to move slowly and carefully through the halls, almost gliding in his effort to make the trip as painless as possible for me. The warmth of his body heat was comforting, and I squeezed my arms into a tighter grip around his shoulders, causing him to startle.

“Are..are you...nuzzling me?”

Yes.

“No. Who would want to snuggle you. Your spiky anime hair could gouge somebody’s eye out.”

It was the flu, I thought, remembering my brief hug in the nurse’s office. It turned me into a sappy wimp. I’d be back to normal soon. I didn’t like to be touched...did I? I thought about the way Armin’s hand had gently held mine outside the school, less than a week ago. It had been nice, it made me feel almost warm in spite of the autumn air. Long after he let go, I had still felt the ghost of his fingertips on my skin.

I let out a grumble at the thought, which Jean must have interpreted as a warning because he almost went crashing through the glass doors in his haste to get outside. “We’re outside! We’re outside! Oh god where is Ymir, we’re outside.” He let go of my legs and I almost tumbled backwards, tightening my hold on his neck instead. His knees buckled as he leaned forward to avoid being strangled, and I used to opportunity slide off him to the ground.

The literal ground, because my legs were still shaky and I can sit anywhere I want dammit.

Ymir’s car slowly crawled up to the curb, and she leaned over to pop open the passenger door from the inside. She made eye contact with me, face serious for once instead of it’s usual smirk.

“You coming with me?” she called over, eyes stern. It wasn’t exactly a command, more like a strong, strong suggestion. I could still back out. Could still make my way somehow to the bus stop and go home.

My empty home. Hank would stop by a few times, bring me soup, fuss a little bit. But he wouldn’t be there in any real way. I would still be, for all intents and purposes, alone. And that was something I had lately grown very tired of being.

I met Ymir’s eyes and nodded once. Reaching up a hand without looking, I fisted a handful of Jean’s shirt.

“Jean. I need you to carry me to that car. Romance novel style.”

**  
“God dammit Annie.”**


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh god I was actually looking forward to tomorrow now. I would spend every night here in too big pajamas with sheep patterns on them and wearing my cousins underwear if it meant I could get more of that delicious heroin laced soup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is always welcome.

So the situation was this. I was currently curled up in the backseat of Ymir’s Prius (Jean having graciously helped me buckle myself into the middle seatbelt so I could lay down), listening to Ymir try to impersonate me on the phone to my own father, all while weaving and out of traffic.

“Yeah, Dad. Krista was just calling to see if I could sleep over at a friend’s this weekend. Nothing’s wrong, I promise.” Ymir’s voice had taken on a much higher pitch, and had adopted a nasal quality that I wasn’t too fond of. And even worse, Hank appeared to be buying it, so it couldn’t have been too far off.

“She’s a friend of Krista’s. Ymir. Jorgenson. Yes, her parents will be home.” I caught Ymir’s eyes in the mirror and she shook her head, rendering that last piece of information untrue. “She’s great. She’s going to help me with all my homework because she’s so smart.”

Ymir somehow knew exactly when to turn her head to dodge my tiny fist, twisting out of my reach. “Okay, well we’re almost there. I’ll see you on Sunday, love you!”

She tossed the phone onto the seat next to her, finally sparing more than five seconds at a time to watch the road. “He’s going to be on to you.” I warned her. “We don’t really say I love you.”

“What kind of freak family doesn’t say I love you? I saw my mom at breakfast and she texted me at lunch to tell me she loved me. There’s probably notes and shit all over my house. Ymir- please unload the dishwasher. I love you. Ymir- Don’t stay up all night. I love you. Ymir- I threw out your favorite Vans because they were starting to grow mold. I love you. I’ll never get away from that shit.”

I didn’t realize I could be afraid of something and yet so jealous of it at the same time. My freak family, as she called it, had never been very affectionate. We believed that actions spoke louder than words. That might mean that my favorite meals would be ready at the end of a hard day, even though I hadn’t voiced any complaints. Or a new bracelet would be waiting for my mother on the kitchen table, bringing an instant end to whatever she and Hank had been fighting about. My clothes were always clean, my stomach was always full, someone was always in the audience during my performances. Sure, no one said they loved me out loud, but I had grown up safe in the knowledge that I was cared for. Ymir’s family, with their constant displays of affection, seemed as alien to me as mine must have seemed to her.  “So I won’t be meeting the people who spawned you, then?”

Ymir snorted. “No, they left this morning for some conference at the university in Sina. My dad is a history professor, and my mom teaches classical studies. They’ll be back Sunday night, full of exciting new ways to teach Ancient Greek to a bunch of hungover college kids.”

“And they don’t mind that you have company over while they’re gone?” I said skeptically. Ymir shook her head at me, flicking on her turn signal to enter the sprawling subdivision to our left.

“Hell no. They kind of washed their hands of the whole authoritative parent thing, now that I’m in my last year of school. Said I was less than a year away from being a legal adult, and it was time to let me stretch my wings a bit, whatever that means. As long as I keep my grades up and don’t get pregnant, we have a don’t ask don’t tell kind of relationship.”

I smiled up at the ceiling of the car. “So what do you do with all that freedom?”

“Not a damn thing. I got a shitty part time job because I’m so bored _not_ scouring the streets for drugs. The most rebellious thing I do is have Krista spend the night sometimes on school nights, I lead such a wild and crazy life.”

“Yeah sleepovers are such a gateway drug.”

“Are you trying to tell me you have drugs, because I’m looking forward to this weekend a little more if you are.”

I lazily reach down into the front pocket of my backpack, fishing my hand around. “I have a bottle of Midol, and the fish oil supplements I take with my lunch.”

“Geeze Annie, you are _off_ the _hook_.”

The view I could see out my window only revealed row and after row of identical looking houses, but Ymir navigated through the streets with ease. Everything looked sparkling and new, from the paint on the houses to the grass on the lawns. This was one of the more upscale subdivisions in the city, not nice enough to be a gated community, but perfect for people who were tired of two story townhouses that shared a wall on each side, and had the money to burn. Eventually she turned into the driveway of a sprawling one story brick house that looked virtually the same as the one next to it, except for one garish detail…

“Dude why is your front door blue?” Not a light blue either, but a bright, vivid turquoise. Ymir’s parents must get furious letters from their Home Owners Association on the monthly. She threw her hands up, rolling her eyes in frustration. “It’s a Greek thing. It reminds my mother of home, she says. She grew up in Michigan, so I don’t know exactly what home she’s referring to, but she gets snippy when I ask her so I just let it go.” Ymir rummaged through her cupholder, plucking out a garage door opener and pointing it in front of us. One smart little beep later, and the huge expanse of white wall was rolling upwards, Ymir coasting the car forward before it had even gotten all the way up. The three car garage was empty, save for Ymir’s car, which she parked in the side closest to the door. A wall of tools and a workbench lined the opposite wall, along with three shiny bicycles. The whole thing just screamed Suburbia. I would never have guessed in a million years that Ymir lived in a place like this. I mean, I hadn’t given it a lot of thought to begin with, but in the back of my mind I just figured she haunted a bridge somewhere.

The door at my feet was abruptly yanked open, and Ymir stuck her head in. “Are you getting out, or am I going to have to drag you by the ankles? Either way is fine with me, I’m just warning you that the stairs are gonna be a bitch.”

I unbuckled the seatbelt around my waist and slowly sat up, feeling every joint in my body creak at the same time. Tugging at my backpack with a weak grip, I tried my hardest to give Ymir the pitiful look I’d seen Krista give her when she wanted something, like an extra carton of milk from the lunch line or the jacket she was wearing.

Ymir broke into a mocking laugh. “Sorry babe, you’re not half as cute as your cousin when you do that. Carry your own shit.”

Damn. I resentfully scooted out of the backseat and followed Ymir up the small set of stairs leading from the garage to the house. She quickly punched a code into the keyless lock, and we stepped into the fanciest kitchen I had ever seen. Seriously, Giselle and I had watched a lot of competitive cooking shows over the years, and every strange gadget we had ever seen was in this room. The counters were a dark marble, the appliances shiny and silver. There were glass doors on the cupboards, perfectly matching dishes and cups nestled inside. Every available surface was covered with some kind of gizmo, I counted a rice cooker, two blenders, a standing mixer, and a deep fryer just on a cursory glance.

“This is...really nice.” I said, for once every snarky comment dying on my tongue. Ymir looked at me to see if I was serious, then shrugged her shoulders, a soft blush rising to her cheeks.

“My dad and I are really into cooking. He makes these elaborate dinners every night, like four courses and everything.”

“That sounds amazing..” I said wistfully. Hank and I were no master chefs, we had been living on boxed food and takeout for awhile. Ymir just snorted.

“Sometimes it’s okay, but other times a girl just wants Pizza Hut. I don’t remember the last time we went out to eat. Lars says there is no way he’s paying a restaurant to make food we can make ourselves at home. Besides, it’s hard to find authentic food in this city.”

I raised an eyebrow, and she elaborated. “Lars is from Norway, and you know Nadia is Greek from the weird door thing. I know they miss eating traditional food, so we make what we can.”

“There’s always that gyro place on Broadway?” I suggested.

“That gyro place is slop!” she hissed, more color rising in her cheeks at the idea that cheap bar food could be compared to what they made. She made it sound like being foodies was only her parent’s thing, but I suspected Ymir took a secret amount of pride in being able to cook well. She slowly regained control of her breathing, then led me into the large family room.

Everything was stark, with clean lines. The walls were white, the furniture black leather. A few professional portraits graces the walls, all of them in tasteful black and white photography. The room was almost eerily devoid of personal touches, all nick nacks had been relegated to a professionally lit curio case in the corner. I wandered over and looked at the shelves, seeing a couple statues, some leather bound books, a pendant necklace. “That’s all stuff they pick up abroad.” Ymir called over, and I turned to see her still on the other side of the room, nervously shifting from side to side.

She cleared her throat. “I should probably wash the clothes you’re wearing, I can lend you some stuff to wear around the house. You can shower whenever you want, and you can look around the house, I just need to take care of something in my room first.”

I blinked at her, not seeing where this was going. She sighed, obviously frustrated and tried again. “I’m saying, I wasn’t prepared for company. So can you stay out here for a minute while I clean some stuff up.”

“Oh. Yeah.” I moved over to the couch and sat down, stiff and awkward. As she disappeared down the hallway, I wondered what she could possibly be so embarrassed about. I thought about Mina’s room, and wished she had been a little more self aware about having company see her underwear strewn around like some kind of panty tornado. I didn’t have long to ponder though, because after a few minutes a very familiar feeling crept into my gut.

Gingerly, carefully, I rose from the couch and inched down the hallway Ymir had gone into. “Uh..Ymir. Which room is the bathroom?”

A muffled voice came from behind the closed door to my left. “Third door...down...oh god.” The door whipped open and Ymir sprang out, grabbing my elbow and pulling me along with her. We barged into the bathroom and she barely had time to shove my head forward in front of the toilet before I hacked up the water Nurse Hange had made me drink. Ymir kept both hands on my temples, holding my bangs away from the action. In the back of my mind, I noticed she was humming, soothing little sounds with seemingly no melody. She kept on after I’d stopped being sick, the noise of it echoing in the small room and bouncing off the tile walls. I closed my eyes, concentrating only on whatever nonsense song it was, and soon it faded away. Gently, she eased me back until I was sitting against the wall nearest the toilet, then rose to her feet. She turned and left, rummaging around the house for something in the kitchen, then banging around in the linen closet. When she returned, she was carrying a blanket, pillow, and a glass of Sprite.

The pillow and blanket were tossed next to me, and the soda was carefully placed in my hands. She backed up so she was leaning against the wall opposite me, the slid down to mimic my seated position. Gesturing at the drink I was holding, she commanded, “Drink up. I need to make sure you can keep fluids down. Sip slowly, you don’t want it to come back up. I’ll let you sleep for awhile after this glass is gone.”

The thought of drinking anything made my stomach roll in protest, but the look on Ymir’s face made it clear this was non negotiable. Slowly, resentfully, I drank the entire cup under her watchful eye, and when she was satisfied it wasn’t going to come rocketing back up she got to her feet again. Ymir left once more, coming back to toss a pile of clothes at me. “You can wear some of my pajamas, and Krista leaves clothes here sometimes in case she needs to stay over, so there is some underwear that should fit you better than mine would.”

I wrinkled my nose in revulsion at the thought of wearing someone else’s underwear, even clean, a fact that Ymir did not miss. “I am not letting you go commando in my sleep shorts, so you wear that or you go naked, because I am washing those nasty clothes right now. So just change and toss the old stuff outside, I’ll put it in the washer”

Too beaten down to protest further, I just nodded and stared angrily at the ground. When she closed the door behind her, I stripped down and stared at the shower stall. I didn’t know if I had the strength to stand for long enough to get clean, but I hated the idea of slipping into clean clothes while I still felt so gross. The last of my dignity slipped away and waved goodbye as I cracked open the door and shouted for Ymir, asking if she would sit out in the hallway to make sure I didn’t pass out.

She would, but she gave me a warning first. “Try to stay conscious, because I am not giving you cpr while you’re butt ass naked. I hope the ambulance would get here before you drown.”

She stretched out on the floor of the thickly carpeted hallway, pulling out her phone to pass the time. Finally certain she wasn’t going to leave me to die, I left the door half open and stumbled into the shower. The hottest, most glorious shower I had ever had. I generously helped myself to all Ymir’s shampoo and soap, finally emerging smelling like brown sugar and pears. Which Ymir helpfully pointed out was a welcome change from smelling like ass. I kicked my school clothes out in the hallway, loudly slamming the door afterwards. Sighing, I stepped into the borrowed clothes and roughly brushed the tangles out of my damp hair, feeling all at once a thousand years old. The bathroom was warm from the steam of the shower, so it was no struggle to shake out the blanket Ymir had left me and sink down into a mercifully peaceful sleep.

..A sleep that lasted for an unknown length of time before I was rudely awakened by a dark figure looming over me, poking her foot into my face.

“Are you dead?” She whispered loudly, ignoring my groans of protest. “You’ve been asleep for four hours and haven’t ralphed once, I thought you finally deserved to go into the rest of the house.”

Four hours? That must mean it was almost 8 o’clock. Amazingly, my stomach felt calm for the first time since that morning. Ymir lent a hand to help my to my feet, and I shuffled out to the family room dragging the blanket around my shoulders like a cape. Collapsing on the couch, from my vantage point I could see Ymir flitting around in the kitchen, messing with something on the stove. Whatever she was making smelled divine, and my empty belly make little noises of hunger. She came back into the room carrying two bowls, hers heaped high with something that looked like Chicken Tikka Masala, and mine...filled with stupid watery broth.

She plunked the bowl in front of me on the coffee table and stared expectantly. “Just chicken soup for you. It’s gotta be bland, or it could make you sick again.”

“So you’re just going to eat something amazing in front of me?”

“Yep.” She said, flinging herself into the adjacent recliner. Making a big show of taking the first bite, rolling her eyes upwards at the taste, she started mowing down her own dinner. I went back to eyeballing my own bowl, for the first time noticing how tasty it smelled. Reaching over to bring it close to my face, I noticed shreds of chicken swimming in the broth, and the strong smell of ginger wafting upwards. Tentatively, I spooned in the first taste, then quickly abandoned the utensil to drink straight from the bowl, like some kind of savage.

I could hear Ymir chuckling next to me. “You can say ‘Thank You’ anytime, you know.”

The low growl I made would have to do, I was busy inhaling the best chicken soup I had ever had. After the long day, it was like a religious experience. When the whole bowl was finally drained, I turned to Ymir to stare incredulously. “You made that? That didn’t come from a box or anything? Did you have that delivered while I was asleep?”

Ymir continued to flip through the channels on the TV, a smug smile playing across her face. “Man, you don’t even know. Tomorrow I’ll make soup that will blow that out of the water, I just didn’t want it to be too much too soon.”

Oh god I was actually looking forward to tomorrow now. I would spend every night here in too big pajamas with sheep patterns on them and wearing my cousins underwear if it meant I could get more of that delicious heroin laced soup. (I was just guessing on the heroin part, but I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised.)

Dinner over for both of us, we eventually settled on watching Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, abandoning conversation to concentrate on the movie. Although we did talk for awhile about how yes, of course the best part of the movie is when the elves come to defend Helm’s Deep, you’d have to be an idiot not to think that. By the time the credits were rolling, my eyelids had gotten heavy, and I kept having to stop myself from falling forward as I nodded off. Ymir clicked off the TV and stood up, announcing bedtime for both of us.

I was ready to agree, and snuggled deeper into the couch. Ymir saw and wagged her finger at me. “Oh no, you’re sleeping in my room so I can help you if you get sick in the middle of the night. Nadia will never let me hear the end of it if you throw up on the rug out here. It’ll be all ‘Oh, Ymir! This rug! It came all the way from Iran! Do you know how much it will cost to replace, oh dear, the rug, Ymir!’ I am not dealing with that after the vase incident.”

Ymir pointed at the door to her room, telling me to go inside and wait while she wrestled the twin mattress from the spare room out of it frame and dragged it in. Obediently, I followed her orders, padding in on soft footsteps. Whatever I had expected to see, from what I knew of Ymir and what I’d seen of the rest of the house, it wasn’t this.

It was clean, but obviously more lived in than the rest of the house, Ymir’s books and cd’s and shoes shoved into the corners and the shelves. Her bed was unmade, a large wrought iron bed frame cradling a queen sized mattress. Interestingly, a large rainbow flag covered one of the windows, acting as a curtain. The walls were a deep purple, but it was a miracle I could see the paint at all considering they were covered with the most memorable attribute of the room..her artwork. Every single inch of available wall space was covered in papers, some tacked, some glued, all of them with impossible beautiful pictures. Lots of them were trees, some were of her and two people I assumed were her parents. A few looked to me like candid drawings, quickly sketched of strangers out in public. As my eyes travelled along the space, I realized I had made a mistake earlier. The area above her desk was empty, a large expanse of empty wall. I wandered over, idly turning over objects on the table surface, until I picked up a book and uncovered what I assumed had been the reason Ymir had to get her room company ready.

It was Krista. Beautiful drawn and brought to life of paper. The curve of her cheek, the swing of her hair, all of it perfectly captured. Mesmerized, I flipped through the rest. Krista walking, Krista with her head in a book, Krista with a sewing needle pursed between her lips and staring at a difficult piece of fabric. It was hard to tell which, if any, she had posed for...or which had been done from detailed memory. My perusal came to halt when I flipped over one page and was greeted with the sight of my own face along with Kristas.

It was unfinished, a colored pencil drawing of two little girls, toddlers still. There was a photograph paperclipped to the bottom for reference, but it wasn’t a scene that jogged any memory of mine. I was certain I had never even seen the picture before. But still it was obviously Krista and me. I sat in the grass, my chunky legs splayed to make room for a treasure hoard of dandelion flowers in my lap. My dress was white with a bright strawberry print, and I had a matching little bucket hat. Flowers were tightly fisted in both hands, and I was smiling a toothy grin at the girl next to me. Little Krista was adorable in her pink overalls, blonde hair tied in two pigtails that were so short they looked like antennae sticking out the side of her head. Her head was thrown back in delight, mouth open in a wide childish laugh, hands clapping together. We were both obviously very happy. There was a pair of smooth legs visible behind me, and hands reaching down to pluck me out of the dirt. I recognized the ring on the left hand. So, Giselle had been there too. I was so absorbed in what I was seeing that I hadn’t noticed Ymir creep up over my shoulder until I felt her warm breath hiss past my ear.

“Krista loves that picture.” she said softly. “She won’t even frame the original, she’s so afraid something will happen to it. I thought maybe if I drew it, she’d finally put it on her wall.”

“I’ve never seen it before.” came my quiet reply. There weren’t many pictures of the two of us together over the years, Alma went through many periods where she forbid contact. Eventually she would relent, and Krista would be in our lives again for another year or two until the next perceived slight. The most regular contact we had was when we both started attending school and would pass in the halls.

Ymir thought for a moment, then reached over me to unclip the photograph from the drawing. “Take this one.” she offered. “This is a copy she made me, and I don’t need it anymore to finish up what’s left.” Any protest I had died when she forcefully pressed it into my hands. “She would like to know you have one too.” She said firmly, then turned to finish setting up my temporary bed. I went out in the living room to find my backpack, slipping it safely between the pages of a textbook, and when I returned my pillow and blanket were ready, Ymir already in her bed.

I turned off the light as I came in and felt my way across the dark room to my bed on the floor, sighing with content as I fell back. Snuggling into the blankets, I looked forward to a night of restful sleep.

“You should be nicer to her.”

So much for that.

I struggled up on one elbow and stared in the direction of Ymir’s bed. “What.” I asked aloud to the dark room. Ymir’s words sounded like they had been torn unwilling from her lips, like she had no choice but to say them.

“That’s your cousin, and you don’t give her the time of day.” The soft whisper in the dark carried more weight than shouting would have. I rolled over, as if facing away would protect me from the harsh words I knew were coming.

“I don’t give any of my cousins the time of day. It’s nothing personal.”

“This is different, and you damn well know it.” she hissed. “You’re her family, some of the only real family she’s got. That sister of hers comes by whenever it’s convenient to her, making promises she doesn’t keep. So she’s got her deadbeat mom, her grandparents who work her hands to the bone in that sweatshop of a tailoring shop, her flake of a sister, and then you two.”

So Frieda did visit Krista. And I didn’t need to ask about the two that I was included with.

“She left me too. If I could have made her stay I would have.” I said forcefully. “If she didn’t want to be Krista’s aunt anymore, that’s not on me.”

“No, but the shitty way you treat her is. She just wants to be a part of your life, and you close her off from it at every turn. You think you were the only one hurt when Giselle went to live with _Rod_.” She spit out his name like it was a poison. “You could have helped each other. Instead you ignored her calls all summer and just wrapped yourself in your own little bubble and left her out to dry. You think you’re so strong, you can handle it alone? Great. Did you ever think that she couldn’t?”

The silence that followed was suffocating. I wanted to say something, anything, to defend myself, but it was the truth. I hadn’t reached out to Krista, I honestly hadn’t considered how it affected her at all. But Krista had loved Giselle too. It must have felt like she’d lost both us when she left..

“I’m trying now, aren’t I?” I choked out, voice thick. I wasn’t going to cry, not here. “I’m sitting with her at lunch, I let her dress me up like a doll.”

Ymir let out a rush of exasperated breath. “That’s not all there is too it, dumbass. Yeah, you’re there, but you need to let her in. Talk to her about stuff, let her know about your life. She loves you. She’s some of the only family you’ve got, too. Don’t be like your shitty mom and leave her behind. Everybody else has.”

I stayed quiet for so long, Ymir whispered my name, thinking I had fallen asleep. I let my breathing even out, a smooth rise and fall of my chest, until I heard her shift around to get comfortable, then drift off herself. When I was certain she was out, I crumpled up the hem of my sleep shirt into a ball, then stuffed it into my mouth. Silently, I let guilty tears roll down my cheeks, shoulders heaving as I curled into a little ball. I don’t know when I finally fell asleep, just that I woke up in the morning with dry eyes and an ache in the middle of my chest.

**  
I was just like her after all.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, one more Annie/Ymir chapter, then we finally get to see Armin again! Shout out to all the people stopping by for Levihan, I promise it will happen, I just had no idea how fucking long this story was going to end up being. Like, guys, in the story it's only the end of September and I have them planned to go through the end of the school year. What is my life.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sure the box you live in will be beautifully painted after you graduate.”
> 
> “Shut up Annie, at least I’m passionate about something. The only thing your heart beats fast for is a sale at UnderArmour factory outlet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter than I would have liked, but I wanted a clear break before the next one. Enjoy, your comments are making me so happy.

I woke up alone. Ymir’s bed lay empty, the covers and blankets strewn about unmade. I didn’t know what time it was, but sunlight was already streaming in through the windows, bathing the room in a hazy colored light from the makeshift curtain. The prospect of getting up and facing Ymir after our conversation last night seemed daunting, so instead I curled up even farther under my blankets. I wondered how long I could stay in here before she would check on me. Maybe the events of last night had soured her charitable streak, and she was shipping me off to my empty house.

Not that I would blame her, if she did. Ymir and Krista had been friends for years, since Krista and I started high school. Sure, she was a year ahead of both of us, but they had been tight ever since...huh..I didn’t actually know how they met. Ymir had just inserted herself in Krista’s life one day, and I must have just accepted it. If there had been a story involved, I was either not privy to it, or it had gone in one ear and out the other.

I was the worst.

Groaning, I tossed the blanket off onto the floor. My breathing had been getting worse, whether from a genuine lack of air, or from the heavy feeling in my chest when I thought about poor Krista, once again left an outsider from her own fucking family. My fucking family. Me. God dammit. This was not a good feeling. This must have been Ymir’s plan ever since I puked on her shoes, some kind of sick punishment. She was going to kidnap me, and when she had me cornered, ambush me with every shitty thing I’d ever done.

“There are eggs if you want them.”

I startled at the unexpected intrusion of noise. Ymir’s lanky frame was leaning against the door, wearing an old band t-shirt and what appeared to be mens boxer shorts. She yawned, raking one hand through her truly impressive bedhead, then raised an eyebrow at me.

“I’m going to eat them all myself if you don’t get up in the next thirty seconds. Letting you know about them was just a courtesy.”

The smell was beginning to waft into the room from the kitchen, and I could tell that there were also pancakes out there somewhere. Cautiously, I poked my belly a couple times, and when there was no unwelcome seizing or cramping I shifted to tumble off the mattress onto the floor. Scrambling to my feet, I headed towards the door, stopping when I noticed Ymir trying and failing to cover the smirk on her face.

“What.” I glowered, doing my best to look intimidating while wearing button up jammies with a sleeping sheep pattern. I had a feeling it was not super effective.

Ymir snickered. “You look beautiful.”

I pushed passed her and went through the door to the bathroom, squinting at myself in the mirror. My hair was all mushed to one side, my eyes were bloodshot, and there was an actual visible crust of drool smeared from the corner of my mouth to my ear.

“Eh. I’ve seen worse.”

Ymir was leaning through the doorway, watching me. “Should I have called Armin to come over, Sleeping Beauty? It’s almost 11 o’clock. Maybe he could have kissed you awake.”

I shuddered. “No one needs to see this.”

“Why do I have to see this, then?”

“Because I’ve thrown up on you. We have a bond now. We’re like blood sisters.”

She disappeared down the hallway, making gagging noises as she went. I eyeballed the shower for a brief moment, then settled for scrubbing my face clean and twisting my hair back in a knot. Padding on bare feet into the kitchen, I heaved myself into one of the chairs at the big island in the middle of the room, watching Ymir flip pancakes with her back to me.

“I’m sorry I slept so late.” I said quietly. “If you have anything you need to do today, I can get home by myself. You’ll just need to tell me where the closest bus stop is.”

She snorts, not turning away from her work at the stove top. “No bus stops way out here in Bumfuck Egypt. We’re too far away from the city center. And really Annie.” At this she whirled around and clutched the spatula dramatically to her chest. “Are you so desperate to leave me already? After all we’ve been through.”

“Your pancakes are burning.”

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll just make you eat those.”

“Your hospitality is truly unmatched.”

She gesture at me with the spatula that was currently not doing it’s job. “I am a WONDERFUL host. I wouldn’t dream of sending you home yet. You’re still too sick. And more importantly, I’m too bored. Krista is going to be busy at the shop all day, and I don’t have to work, so my whole day is free.”

“Hooray..”

“Let’s have a heart to heart, Annie. We can braid each others hair and everything. Tell me your hopes and dreams.”

Finally turning around to tend to the neglected pancake batter, I asked her the question that had been on my mind since last night.

“Are you gay?”

The spatula dropped from her hand into the skillet, causing her to curse and whisk the whole pan off the range and into the sink. Gingerly lifting it out and running it under the cold tap, she very pointedly didn’t look in my direction as she asked, “Would that bother you?”

Her tone was the very essence of nonchalance, but I saw the way her shoulders tensed up, like she was bracing herself for...what, I’m not sure. To physically throw me out of the house, to defend herself against some baseless accusation?

“No. It would just make more sense why the sunshine in my eyes was technicolor this morning.”

The laugh that bubbled from her lips surprised both of us, given her expression. She closed her eyes for the briefest moment in relief, then turned towards me, already rolling her eyes in a familiar gesture.

“Nadia.” She groaned. “When I came out a few years ago, she went way overboard to make sure I knew I was living in a supportive environment. She brought it home while I was at school one day, I had to fight to convince her that it wasn’t necessary to hang it from our porch. Having it in my room was the compromise.”

I chuckled a little, trying to imagine the scene. “Your parents sound like nice people.”

“My parents are the best fucking people. It makes it so hard to do my whole edgy rebel thing.” She sounded almost awed, like she still couldn’t believe her good luck. “I’m almost going to miss them next year when I go away to school.”

She set two plates down and sat in the seat next to me. For a few minutes we ate in silence, the only sound the scrape of our forks against the flatware. Swallowing my last bite, I picked up the conversation where it had left off.

“What are you even doing next year? Staying in town, or..?”

Giving her own finished plate a shove, she sighed and leaned back in the chair, arms crossed behind her head. “Maria University, probably. I need to send in the stuff for early admission still. I tried to talk my way into jumping right into a tattoo apprenticeship, but that is the one thing they’re not supportive of.”

“For art?” I asked, and she answered me with a snort. “Kind of obvious, isn’t it?”

“I’m sure the box you live in will be beautiful painted after you graduate.”

“Shut up Annie, at least I’m passionate about something. The only thing your heart beats fast for is a sale at UnderArmour factory outlet.”

“I have lots of passions. Scores.”

“Oh yay, you mean your failed ballerina career?” She twirled one hand above her head for emphasis.

“What do you mean failed?

“Krista dragged me to one of your shows, and it was clear to everyone that you hated it. Good on you for stopping when the going got tough, though.”

I began to feel little pinpricks at the back of my eyes. Should I be sad, or angry? Anger seemed the safer, more familiar option.

“Is this what we’re going to do all weekend? You’re just going to make little jabs at me? I get it, I suck. Thanks. I spent a lot of time growing up hearing that, I don’t need another voice to the chorus.” I turned to jump down from the unreasonably tall bar stool, and was stopped by Ymir’s hand circled in an iron grip around my elbow.

“Hey.” I glared at her out of the corner of my eye, but she remained unphased. She even looked a little remorseful, which was an emotion I didn’t even know she was capable of. “I’m sorry. For that, and for..last night. I shouldn’t have snapped at your like that.”

I scrubbed the back of my free hand at my eyes, relieved to feel no tears. “Well, I deserved it.” I answered, voice rough.

“Oh yeah, you did. I’d been wanting to say something for awhile. But last night wasn’t the way to do it. Some things just feel safer to say in the dark.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t find you to punch you in the face.”

“No, I meant I didn’t have to see your face while you cried like a little bitch.” I flinched at that. “Yeah, that’s right, I heard that, and it made me feel like an asshole..so...I’m sorry.”

I could have wrenched my arm from her grip. Could have packed up my bags, called Jean for a ride, and he would have come. I could have gone home to my hidey hole and nursed my wounds. Instead, I grabbed my empty plate and waved it in her face.

“Can I have more eggs?”

“Annnnnnd moment’s gone. Fine. I’ll make your damn eggs.”

Later, as we vegged out in the family room watching reruns of Supernatural, Ymir made a noise of disgust and looked up from her phone. “Do you even have a cell phone?” She demanded. “Why are people like Mina and Jean texting me asking about you? Those are your friends, I didn’t adopt them.”

I blinked at her, then shifted my eyes to my backpack on the other side of the room. “I haven’t checked, no one usually calls me…” which sounded pathetic even as I said it. Under Ymir’s scornful gaze, I retrieved my slim Iphone from the middle pocket and sank back into my blanket nest on the couch. Sliding upon the screen, my mouth hung open at the sight.

22 UNREAD MESSAGES

Ten of them were from Mina, apologizing for getting me sick. The poor girl was frantic, which can’t have been helping her health. Some were from Jean, nervously asking me what my symptoms had been the morning before the flu hit, then another from fifteen minutes ago cursing me to hell, so I assumed that he was also afflicted. Krista had sent me a few, apologizing for not being able to shelter me at her house, then asking if Ymir and I were bonding. Oh, more than I’m comfortable with, Krista. One was from an unlisted number, that announced itself as belonging to Mikasa, which just said: “Jean called me crying and kept repeating ‘We hate Annie now.’ I don’t know what’s going on, but don’t bring me into it.” And then, the holy grail. Three whole texts from Armin Arlert himself.

From: Armin

Jean told me you were sick at school Annie, I hope you’re being well taken care of and you feel better soon.

From: Armin

Nevermind, Jean just told me that Ymir Jorgenson is taking care of you. If you need assistance, just call this number and leave the line open, I’ll call 911.

From: Armin

Are you dead? Please don’t be dead. Please don’t let Ymir be dead either, if you two got into some kind of grudge match.

“I can see that dopey smile. I know you have a heart, Ms. Grinch.” Ymir smirked from her seat in the recliner. I shoved my phone under my blanket and grimaced at the TV, trying to change the subject.

“Why is this on? The only reason to watch this is because of the two brothers, and you don’t even swing that way.”

“Honey, _nobody_ is that gay.”

That night, while we were laying in the dark trying to fall sleep, I rolled in Ymir’s direction and finally answered her question.

“Music.” I whispered.

She mumbled back, “What about it? Are we starting some kind of twenty questions game, because the time for that would have been earlier when we were so bored we put together one of Lars’ puzzles.”

“That’s what I’m passionate about. I play clarinet. It’s the only thing I’m good at.” Even facing her way in pitch black was too much for this much honesty, so I rolled back over and hid my face.

“Annie. I know you’re very good. Berthold told me, and he doesn’t sugarcoat like your cousin does. But I doubt that’s the only thing you’re good at.” Ymir’s voice carried an uncharacteristic gentleness, that sounded well practiced. I wondered briefly if she had to spend many nights using that same tone on Krista.

I tried to calm my racing heart for this next part, something I hadn’t ever found the words to say out loud. And I was saying them to _Ymir_. Because somehow, she felt like the only one who would really listen, instead of just comfort me.

“That’s the only time she ever looked proud of me. So it must be the only thing I’m good at. Everything else I did, the way I used my fork or talked on the phone or dressed myself in the morning, it just wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t good enough. So..s-she...she left me. I wasn’t what she wanted after all.”

Krista would have rushed to my defense, assuring me that none of that was true. Jean would have thrown an arm around me and squeezed, as if he could force all the self loathing and bitterness out by force. Gentle Mina would have seen my tears and cried with me.

But Ymir stayed in the dark, in her separate bed, and sighed. “Your mom is a piece of work.”

And I, torn between sobbing and hysterical laughter, agreed.

“Hey. Hey. You’ve gotta get up now.” The voice intruding my dreams was merciless. A low growl left my throat, and I threw a hand over my eyes to block out the light. My other hand stayed up close to my face, ready to swat away any foot that came close. Instead I had the unpleasant experience of knuckles being rubbed briskly against my sternum, and I jolted, coughing and angry, awake. Ymir bent over me, already dressed in jeans and a black polo shirt with The Wall embroidered over the left breast pocket. Hilariously enough, she had a black visor on, and I couldn’t reconcile this imagine while I was still half awake.

“Up.” She said patiently. “You need to get up. I have to work this morning, so you need to shower and get dressed pronto. My shift is only four hours, so you can do homework or whatever at one of the tables and I’ll drop you off at your house afterwards.”

Bleary eyed, I struggled to make sense of what she was saying. Leave? The house? But I was so comfortable, and I had grown oddly attached to these pajamas. Ymir saw my eyes trail down to my borrowed night clothes, and she shot up and marched over to her dresser.

“Oh no you don’t.” she said, rifling through one of the top drawers. “I like those jammies, you are not stealing them, so help me god Annie. You will wear some of Krista’s shit and be grateful.”

“I can wear my school uniform. It’s clean, isn’t it?”

Ymir spared me a look that let me know I was the dumbest person alive. “It’s Sunday. I am not walking around with you wearing school clothes like a fucking dork.”

“None of Krista’s pants will fit me. She’s built like a starving street urchin.”

A bundle of clothing sailed across the room, hitting me square in the chest. “You’re in luck then, there was a skirt in there. Go wash up, we leave in half an hour.”

“I am not going.”

I was standing in front of the mirror, horrified. Krista’s skirt wasn’t too bad, it was black and stretchy, so at least it fit. It was a maxi on Krista, which meant it hovered somewhere above my ankles. Ymir had also scrounged up a pair of cheap rubber flip flops of her mom’s that would fit, since the day was unseasonably warm. But the shirt was a damned hellscape nightmare. It was gray, with white cats printed all over. Adorable on Krista, I’m sure. But I was...let’s say, bustier than my tiny cousin, so on me it was incredibly tight and the wide v-neck was more low cut than those cats would approve of. I felt indecent.

“Indecent? Lord have mercy, the world can tell you have breasts, call the morality police.” Ymir had shrieked when I expressed my hesitation, so I was spending the car ride sulking. It was too hot to even wear my hoodie to cover it.

“Krista probably bought this shirt at Justice. It was never meant to be worn like this.” I muttered, staring out the window. Ymir worked at the coffee shop in a bookstore called The Wall, located in a trendy area downtown. Her shift would be short, and it looked like I would have to stay the whole time, since my calls to Hank had gone unanswered. Backpack in hand, I followed Ymir in through the doors, grateful for the air conditioning.

“Couldn’t I at least have borrowed the pajama top? I whined, following her through the stacks. “It would have looked ridiculous, but at least I wouldn’t have looked like a baby prostitute.”

Ymir turned around, mouth open for yet another pithy comment, but instead she stopped short and smiled. “Annie..” she started, but I kept on going.

“No. Don’t even tell me it’s not that bad. Just because Miss Tiny-tits can wear this without getting fined for indecent exposure doesn’t mean everyone can be so lucky-”

“Annie!” she said again more forcefully, nodding her head at something over my shoulder, and all in one horrifying moment I remembered that Ymir was not the only person I knew who worked at this fucking bookstore.

Slowly, praying that I could learn to turn invisible in the next five seconds, I turned around. Standing there, in his own jeans and black uniform polo, his hair tied back in a little puff of ponytail, was Armin Arlert. With his arms full of books, trying (and failing) to look anywhere but my exposed chest.

Well, what do you know, Jean was right. He really did look like a blonde tomato when he blushed.

**Son of a bitch.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnd that's all for the Annie/Ymir show for now. Next chapter will be Armin/Annie focused, with a stop at Mikasa's casa. Which means there will also be an extra special appearance by Levi. Finally the story is starting to go somewhere!  
> Also, I've done a rough story board, and if I include everything I want to happen, this story is going to end up somewhere in the realm of 40-50 chapters long...which just seems insane.  
> Edit: There were an embarrassing amount of typos in this chapter. My bad, guys.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He pulled the sleek black bicycle frame free from the parking meter it had been locked to and swung one leg over, staring at me expectantly. “If you sit sideways, you can hold your feet away from the tires. You..you might want to hitch your skirt up a bit though, so it doesn’t get caught in the wheel.”
> 
> Oh we were totally going to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE IS NO LEVI IN THIS CHAPTER I'M SORRY.  
> This is why I shouldn't promise things. I meant to sit down and write out this giant monster chapter that covered the whole day, but then inspiration left me and this is the chapter you end up getting. I'm sorry. There is a long authors note at the end that you can skip if you want, it's not important overall.  
> I am blown away by the comments/kudos/hits this has gotten. You all are so wonderful, you keep me going.

Logically, I’m sure that I’ve had worse things happen to me in my life. I had my tonsils out when I was four, and even though I don’t remember much about it, I’m sure it was pretty terrible. Then, there’s the time I thought my goldfish had lived to be six years old before Hank accidentally blabbed that they were just buying a new, similar looking goldfish every time the old one died and I had been too dumb to notice. That had stung, quite a bit.

But this. This was pretty fucking bad.

Dimly, I was aware of the sound of Ymir’s cackling fading off into the distance as she left us behind. Armin met my eyes, cheeks red, a nervous look on his face, before he began to timidly say “You look-”

“Don’t. Even.”

He swallowed back the word “nice” that I was sure had been seconds away from leaving his lips, then cleared his throat. “Better! I was going to say, you look like you’re feeling better. I would have thought you’d have one foot in the grave by now.”

“I feel fine.”

“Ymir must have taken good care of you, then.”

“My level of care was adequate.”

He eyed the backpack in my hands, then glanced behind me. “Is someone coming to pick you up? Ymir works today, doesn’t she?”

“She does. Unless I want to try to figure out the bus home from this part of town, I’m just waiting around for her to be done, then she’ll drive me home.”

Armin’s eyes lit up and he leaned closer to me, enthusiasm practically radiating out of his pores. “D-do you want to hang out today then? I took the early stocking shift today, so I’ll be done in about-” He stopped to whip his head around and find the clock. “An hour and a half! You wouldn’t have to stay here so long, and you could come with me to Mikasa’s house. Her and Eren are just watching TV and playing video games today.”

I must have made a face at the thought of spending the afternoon with that group. But, I had already made an excuse last week when he invited me, and for a second I was struck by the fear that if I made many more excuses, he would stop inviting me anywhere at all. So I tried to compose myself, and had my mouth open to accept, when Armin interrupted me with a worried look on his face.

“We don’t have to go there. It was just an idea..I could even just take you straight home if you already have plans today.”

Armin’s earnestness was way too endearing. It was like he was bending over backwards to make me comfortable. It was also kind of weird. But, not weird enough for me to tell him to take a hike.

“No, I’m free today. Could we maybe..spend time with just the two of us for awhile?”

He grinned and nodded his head so forcefully that a few strands of hair worked themselves out of his ponytail and fell into his face. “Yeah, that’s fine. My place, or yours?”

Before I even thought of the implication, I thought of my empty house and blurted out “No one is home at my place.” I froze, waiting for him to read into that statement. Would he think I was trying to invite him over for a more...private encounter? What if he thought I did this all the time, barged into a family business with my boobs hanging out, letting strange boys know my house was available.

I missed my sweatpants.

Fortunately for me, Armin Arlert was a dork, and it flew over his head completely. “Okay, so we can go to my house. My grandfather will be home.” He must have thought I wasn’t allowed to have people over when a parent wasn’t home. Was that a rule other people had? I wasn’t sure. Hank didn’t seem to care who wandered in and out. “I do still have to stop at Mikasa’s, but it will just be for a minute. Eren borrowed one of my notebooks, and I want to have it back by tonight. It won’t take long, promise.”

He was literally holding his hand out for a pinky promise oh my god.

Cautiously, I reached my hand out to link my little finger with his and he beamed at me as we shook. A moment later, a man in his twenties with a pontytail longer than Armin’s peeked his head around the corner and barked out “Arlert! Reeves pays you to organize the books, not flirt with your little girlfriend on the clock.”

Armin wrenched his hand away and clung tighter to the stack of books he was holding. “Yes, Siss. Sorry, Siss.” The man, Siss, winked at me over Armin’s head and disappeared into the next aisle. He must have been Armin’s supervisor, because he was shaking like a leaf. Armin checked up and down the aisle again before leaning closer to me. “I’m going to get in trouble if we keep talking much longer, but wait in the coffee shop side and I’ll find you when I clock out. Okay?”

“...okay.” I agreed. My heart beat a little faster in my chest. I didn’t know what Armin’s house was like, what his Grandfather was like, hell I barely knew what _Armin_ was like. And this was going to be a lot of uninterrupted time together. Walking to the other side of the store, I pulled out my phone and found Mina’s contact information.

From: Annie                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     Are we close enough friends that you can call me later with a fake emergency if I need one?

My phone chimed a second later with a swift reply.

From: Mina                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      I owe you a favor, so if you put me on speakerphone I’ll start crying and everything. Today feels like a good day for my grandmother to die.

From: Annie                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Jesus, Mina.

From: Mina                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     She’s already dead ok?? If my Nonna isn’t alive to be offended, you can’t be offended either.

Okay, so I had an out if I needed one. I slunk into one of the tables in the cafe and Ymir sauntered over, iced coffee in hand.

“Here.” She said as she plunked it on the table. “Get real cozy, I won’t have much time to come over and chat.”

I snatched the drink and practically inhaled the sweet, sweet caffeine. “Actually,” I said in between drinks, “Armin is taking me home when his shift is over. So, thanks for everything, but I’d be okay if we didn’t speak for...let’s say a week.”

The grin that spread on Ymir’s face looked like it was going to split her cheeks into some kind of Glasgow Smile. “A ride home. Is that what he said?”

“....I don’t like that look on your face.”

I also didn’t like the hyena laugh that came out of her mouth, making her double over to catch her breath. When she stood up again, she brought my backpack with her and set it in front of me. “You’d better hope you can finish all your homework here. I’ll bring this to school with me tomorrow and make sure you have it by first period.”

“Why?” I called to Ymir’s retreating back. “What does that mean??”

I did in fact finish all my homework in the hour before Armin came to get me, and it was a good thing because he was taking me to Mikasa’s house on the back of a fucking bicycle.

“What.”

He stopped fiddling with the bike look to give me a quizzical look. “What, what?”

“How are we both going somewhere on that?”

“Oh, that.” He patted the textbook rack over the rear tire. “You can sit here, and if you hold on to me it’s probably safe.”

 _Probably safe_ sounded like some last words if I ever heard them.

“Mikasa’s place is only about a mile away, and then it’s not far to my house.”

“Don’t you know how to drive?”

He gave me a pointed look. “Do _you_ know how to drive?”

Point taken.

I stared distrustfully at the bike. “Are bikes...safe? Isn’t it hard to keep them upright.”

Armin froze and turned back around to stare at me again. “Annie, have you never ridden a bike before?”

“...is that strange?”

“Yes it’s strange! Were you raised in one of those bubble suits? How are you sixteen and don’t know how to ride a bike?”

The ground suddenly seemed very interesting, so I looked at it instead of Armin’s face. “My mom was pretty protective of me, growing up. I think she thought I would shatter into a million pieces if I ever got hurt.”

Armin’s incredulous expression turned solemn, and he looked to be deep in thought. “Well, we’ll have to fix that then.”

I blinked. “Fix what?”

“Fix you not knowing how to ride a bike. It’s easy, I’m sure you’ll pick it up in no time. Mikasa will help us.”

“Not Eren?”

“Oh, oh no. Not Eren. He’ll try to teach you the same way he learned. ‘Trial by fire’ he calls it.”

“I am both terrified and intrigued.”

Armin sighed and rested back on his heels, rubbing his forehead at the frustration of the memory.

“Eren was taking a long time to learn, so Jean loosened his training wheels one day before Eren went down a big hill, they fell off halfway.”

“And he stayed upright?”

“The fear of death will do that to you.”

I laughed. “Jean’s always been a bit like that. He thinks his way is always the best way to do things.”

“Yeah, well it was definitely the best way to get the crap kicked out of him after Eren caught up to him. Beth was so angry, she grounded both of them. And Eren did it. He went home and told Carla he was grounded, and then stayed inside for a week.”

“Beth likes to think she’s everyones mother. It must be awful to have your only child be Jean.”

Armin paused. “You know, Beth has a picture on her fridge of Jean as a little kid, on Halloween.”

Oh no.

“He’s a power ranger-”

Oh noooo.

“And there is a little girl with him.”

Beth why did you do this to me.

“Is that you?”

“....No.”

“....really. Because it looks just like you.”

“That could be anybody. Lots of little girls loved the pink ranger.”

He grinned. “I never said which ranger it was.”

Arlert, you are playing a dangerous game.

He pulled the sleek black bicycle frame free from the parking meter it had been locked to and swung one leg over, staring at me expectantly. “If you sit sideways, you can hold your feet away from the tires. You..you might want to hitch your skirt up a bit though, so it doesn’t get caught in the wheel.”

Oh we were totally going to die. The kid was built like a fucking daffodil, and he planned to get us both home while I kept my balance through sheer force of will. It was a good thing Ymir had kept my school bag, because any additional weight would have thrown the whole thing off.

Still, the hopeful look on his face made me step forward and carefully set myself on the narrow metal shelf. Taking his advice, I grabbed the hem of my skirt and held it in one hand, making sure to hold my feet away from the wheel spokes. The other arm I snaked around his waist, making sure I had a secure hold. I didn’t miss the way his breath hitched as I did so, and I smiled a little, knowing he couldn’t see me.

“Ready when you are, Captain Arlert.”

**“Here we go!” He shouted gleefully, and then we were off.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys this story is kicking my ass. It's not being abandoned, don't worry, it's just that the scope of it is so big that I sit down and think of all the awesome things I want to happen and I can't figure out the details of how to put it on paper. I agonized over this dialogue, trying to figure out if it's in/out of character, does it flow nicely, etc. I have no writing experience besides this, and the nitty gritty is exhausting. I think I'm going to have to stick to a once a week update schedule, and any more than that will mean I had a very productive week.  
> Also, if you have any interest in beta reading for me so I can take up your time and email you at all hours of the night so I can ask you shit like if a line I wrote sounds like something krista/ymir/eren would really say, hit me up. Don't all line up at once. shoot me an email at muchosmuchosmangos@gmail.com I promise I'm not a psycho.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I cleared my throat. “Good news, it’s 90 degrees outside. You can give some poor unfortunate snowman his scarf back, you won’t be needing it today.”
> 
> Nothing. Okay then. I wasn’t going to win this girl over with humor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.) I'm so ashamed of the long chapter break, oh my god. I had some personal stuff going on this month, and a major case of writing block, but now I'm baaaack and the updates should go a lot smoother from here on out.
> 
> 2.) Basically me, the past two weeks:  
> Mr. muchosmuchosmangos: Who on earth could you possible be emailing at 2 in the morning??  
> muchosmuchosmangos: IDK, my bff Jelly?  
> Huge, huge thanks to my fabulous beta reader Jelly, without whom this story would still be sitting in limbo in my google docs. Seriously, you guys, she put up with so much from me. The whole story boarding process was amazing because of her, she humored me when I email her in the middle of the night to ask stuff like "Would Mikasa say (this) or (this)? or how angry should everybody really be at this point?? 
> 
> 3.) If you would like to read another Armin/Annie story, I would highly recommend Pilgrims in an Unholy Land. It is a beautifully written story that has it all, adventure, romance, angst, archeology. It is written by the very talented Jelly, and beta'd by me, mostly so I can get the opportunity to squeal over chapters in advance.

True to his word, the ride to Mikasa’s home was probably safe.

I only almost fell off twice, clipped a pedestrian with my outstretched feet once, and the light had just barely turned red when we sailed into that intersection. Armin called out an apologetic “Sorry!” behind him as I clutched him tighter and debated whether my father would bury me in my favorite track pants, or whether he would decide the occasion was appropriate enough to stuff me into a dress. Krista would have to give one back, but that was fine. They could leave the back unzipped, dead people don’t care about these kinds of things.

Armin glided to a jerky stop in front of a tall apartment building and I lurched to my feet, reaching desperately for a parking meter to steady my balance.

“I don’t think you really know how to ride a bike.” I gasped, unable to keep the accusatory tone out of my voice. Tightening my grip to keep myself upright, I spared a glance at the nondescript building to my right. The fancy script in the stone above the doors declared itself as “Shina Heights”, and the elegant scrawl seemed jarring compared to the crumbling quality of the building itself. I could tell the bricks had once been red, but time and ill repair had faded them to a dusty brown. Cracks dotted the exterior, as if the building was threatening to split in five different directions. Above me, it rose to at least twenty five stories, all the windows covered in some makeshift fashion with fabric stretched tight, clothes up to dry, and in some I could swear actual tinfoil.  
“Mikasa lives here?” I asked doubtfully, my mind conjuring up the image of the elegant girl I had seen dancing, looking perfectly at ease in formal wear. Armin nodded, catching my drift.

“Mikasa and Levi don’t have a lot of money, they get by on a high school teachers salary and the money she gets from her parents survivor benefits.” He explained, focused on making sure the lock on his bike was secured to the nearest lamp post. “Levi is still pretty young, Mikasa went to live with him as soon as he finished university. I’ve known him for a long time now.” Armin held the door open for me and waved me on through, ever the gentleman. If there were elevators, I didn’t see them. Instead Armin kept up his chatter as we started up the narrow staircase.

“Levi is Mikasa’s uncle, her father’s brother.” He said brightly. “He was my math teacher last year.”

“Is he a good teacher?” I asked, picturing a tall man with Mikasa’s serious eyes.

“....yes.”

“Okay, so he’s a good teacher. Is he a _nice_ teacher?”

“Most people don’t seem to think so. He’s pretty strict. He likes students who are there to learn, not slack off.”

“Are you a good student, Armin Arlert?” I asked, allowing a teasing tone to come into my voice. It went over Armin’s head entirely.

“Oh yes.” he said seriously. “I have a 4.0 Well, 4.2 if you count my weighted classes. I tutor some of the students who are in Levi’s class now.”

We had just rounded the 7th floor landing. Good lord, Armin was a cute kid but I was going to strangle him if Mikasa lived on the top floor.

“Are you a good student, Annie?”

I opened my mouth to speak then snapped it shut, reconsidering my answer. Armin was genuinely interested in my answer, and I could sense that a vague run around or snappy comeback would only hurt his feelings.

“I do okay...I got straight A’s last year, I think it’ll be the same this quarter.” was my hesitant reply.

Armin stopped dead in his tracks, turning around to face me with an amazed look in his eyes.

“Just okay? Annie, those are great grades! Why aren’t you more excited?”  
I shrugged, adopting a defensive hunch to my shoulders. “It’s only okay because nothing I’m studying is interesting. It’s all shit. You memorize the book, spout some crap on the test, and you get an A. It’s all stuff someone else tells you is important.”

“But that’s all information you need. This stuff is important for the real world.”

I snorted, glad that Armin had finally started moving again so we could keep trudging up the stairway that never ends.

“Unless I become a math teacher, when am I ever going to need higher level math? What could I possible use that for? What does anyone use that for?”

Armin’s reply was unexpectedly solemn. “You can build a bridge.”

“Math can build a bridge?”

“Or a building. Or a train. Math is very important, Annie.”

“The only practical application of math is figuring out the tip for the pizza delivery guy, and I still use my phone calculator for that.”

“Oh that’s easy, you just move the decimal point for ten percent, then double tha-”

“I was just making a point, Armin. Calm down. Your excitement about math is making me uncomfortable.”

Even though Armin was walking ahead of me, he turned his head enough that I could see the faint blush staining his cheeks. I wasn’t heartless after all, so I picked up the rest of the conversation.

“I have a hard time getting into learning anything unless I can do something with it. Like, reading out of a book or listening to the teacher for notes, it’s all boring and dull. At least in science we can do experiments, I have proof that I’m learning something…” I drifted off, unsure where I was going with this. “I’m explaining this badly.” I finished lamely.

Armin was nodding though, and laughing softly. “You and Eren should hang out sometime. He’s the same way. A kinesthetic learner, like you. That’s probably why you like playing a musical instrument so much. The only things he really picks up easy are sports and games. Although he’s having a terrible time at his new boxing class, I guess the instructor is a real hardass. Shadis doesn’t mess around.”

We had finally, blessedly turned out of the stairwell and were walking down a thinly carpeted hallway. I had no idea what floor we were on, I suspected it was very near the top judging by how winded I was. The lack of physical activity in my life was really starting to take its toll.  
“Shadis? You mean, Keith Shadis?”

“Yeah, he’s the boxing instructor for Eren’s teen class. Why, do you know him?”

“He works for my father, at the gym.”

Armin had stopped in front of a door, but made no move to knock, too preoccupied with gaping at me.

“Your father owns Titans? The guy who owns that place is supposed to be some kind of boxing legend, Henri the Lion...King?”

“Lion Heart. And yes, that’s him. He’s just Hank now though, Henri is his given name, he thought it sounded more exotic. Don’t be fooled though, he was born in Brooklyn.”

I had to take a step back as Armin suddenly leaned in closer to me, eyes shining with curiosity. “Is he as scary as Shadis? Is he _even scarier_? What’s in that new addition to the gym they’ve had closed off forever? When will it open? It’s two stories taller than the rest of the building!”

“Umm..I don’t actually know? Keith is okay. Hank is pretty boring. And I have no idea what you’re talking about at the gym.”

Armin gave a little sigh, disappointed at the lack of answers. “Well, try to avoid mentioning any of that to Eren unless you want to stay here all afternoon.” He reached over and instead of knocking, turned the door handle and waltzed in, disappearing through the open doorway. “Come on in!” came the call from inside as he retreated deeper into the apartment.

Tentatively, I edged inside and closed the door behind me. The entryway opened into a kitchen, and judging by the pile of shoes by the front door it was meant to stay a very clean kitchen. I nudged the sandals off my feet and slid them over by Armin’s shoes, which he must have kicked off as he was walking in, an old habit deeply ingrained. Somewhere down the narrow hallway, I could hear Eren squealing over Armin’s sudden appearance.

I didn’t feel the need to interrupt their little reunion, and Armin had promised me it would be quick, so I made do with studying the small kitchen. A well worn table dominated the meager floorspace, barely leaving room to access the counters and fridge. The paint was faded, the appliances dull. It was exactly the opposite of Ymir’s fancy restaurant grade kitchen except for one thing, they were both spotless. This one even more so. Almost like any dirt or smudge would be offensive. The peeling plastic countertops gleamed, for gods sake.

“Oh. It’s you.”

My eyes drifted from the counters to the bored girl now standing very close to me. There wasn’t a lot of choice in floorspace, I could understand that, but I didn’t realize she had gotten so near without me paying attention. She must move as softly as a cat.

Mikasa was obviously not wearing her Sunday best, just a thin tank top and some royal blue sweatpants with Rose Track and Field emblazoned down one leg. Weirdly enough, she had topped off her outfit with a burgundy scarf wrapped tightly around her neck, ends draping down her front. She crossed her arms over her chest and met my gaze, totally unruffled.

I cleared my throat. “Good news, it’s 90 degrees outside. You can give some poor unfortunate snowman his scarf back, you won’t be needing it today.”

Nothing. Okay then. I wasn’t going to win this girl over with humor.

“So you’re with Armin today. Why?”

Well now I was starting to think I would never win this girl over, period.

I shifted, trying to adopt a confident stance to hide how deeply uncomfortable this whole confrontation was making me. Where the hell was Armin, that traitor? He’d promised me we’d be in and out, quick as lightning.

“We were both at the bookstore, he’s giving me a ride home.” I said cooly, meeting her sharp gaze with one of my own.

Her eyes narrowed. “So, you’re just using him for a ride, is that it? Is that what all your friends do, just shuttle you around town at your beck and call? Can you even call yourself his friend, what are you to Armin? We only just met you.”

The words, carelessly spoken with absolutely no forethought, tumbled from my lips before I had time to reconsider whether sarcasm was really the best way to handle this situation. “I’m his new girlfriend, guess your baby boy doesn’t tell you everything Mom.”

We both froze, locked in a standstill of awkwardness. I wanted nothing more than to take it back, not because I hated the thought of being Armin’s girlfriend, but because I felt I hadn’t done anything to earn that privilege yet. Sure, I had made him laugh a few times, but I hadn’t ever been particularly nice to him, had I? My experience with dating was absolutely barren, but I was pretty sure nice was a big part of it.

Mikasa looked like she had been punched in the gut, a wounded expression plastered all over her features. Wounded that Armin may have chosen me, or that he had chosen anyone and she hadn’t known about it? Regret washed over me, and I was almost ready to offer a genuine apology when her face hardened, eyes dragging down my body to give me a once over.

“If this is the outfit you picked out for a date, your mother should be ashamed of herself.”

All the color drained from Mikasa’s face as soon as she said it. The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. I saw it, in the spark of regret in Mikasa’s cold eyes, the way her mouth twisted almost painfully.

She knew.

I don’t know how she did, but she knew. And I knew how much she wished she could erase that one moment, the words spoken in anger. From one motherless girl to another.

But now my anger bubbled like a living thing under the surface of my skin. Racing out from my frantically beating heart, it shot through my veins to the very tips of my fingers and toes. She wanted to say she was sorry, to forget this ever happened?

No.

“You don’t know anything about what kind of mother I have. She didn’t think it was important to teach me a lot of things.”

Mikasa looked positively anguished, and for a moment I could see behind the mask she usually wore. The calm, expressionless front was gone, instead I saw the vulnerable girl underneath. It made her look very young, and I tried in vain to stop what came next, but my mouth was already open before my brain could even think of catching up.

“At least she remembered to teach me some manners.”

And there it was, like a steel security grate had slammed shut over her eyes. Her own anger was back.

Mikasa shifted her stance, moving between me and the hallway to the other rooms. “I want you to get out of my house.”

“Annie, Mikasa, what’s going on?” Armin had appeared in the kitchen, Eren close at his heels. Mikasa threw an arm out backwards, as if shielding the both of them from me. “Mikasa, what are you doing?”

“I would love to get out of your house. Come on, Armin. Let’s go.”

“Armin, you’re staying here.” Mikasa spat out through gritted teeth, carefully not to break eye contact with me for even a moment.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You don’t even know me.”

“I know exactly what kind of person you are.”

There were too many people in such a small space. It was too small, and loud, and the anger in the air was so thick I could almost taste it. My heartbeat crashed in my chest, jittering wildly for a few seconds then slowing so suddenly that for a moment I thought it had stopped completely. There wasn’t enough air in this room, with all these people looking at me like they expected me to do something awful at any moment. And if I stayed here any longer, I might. God, if you are real, please just let me teleport out of this kitchen in the next five seconds.

Instead, God decided what this room needed was one more angry person.

The door flew open behind me, something banging against the wall and unleashing a flurry of curses. From the corner of my eye, I could see one of Armin’s sneakers sail across the floor.  
“Mikasa. I swear to God, you have got to stop bringing all your shitty friends over. If you lot ate all my fucking food again, I-”

The diatribe came to halt because I had turned around, and the intruder had finally recognized I wasn’t one of the regular assortment of “shitty friends”.

The man at the door was short, almost as short as me. His face was all angles, like Mikasa’s, and they had the same sullen looking grey eyes. From what I could see, they shared the same black hair as well, but the man’s was partially obscured by the bicycle helmet strapped to his head. A shiny, black helmet that matched the very black, very tight spandex cycling clothes he was wearing. And at the moment, his disgusted curses had been replaced with a horrified grimace as he scanned my face.

“Are you one of my students?” He asked softly, “I can’t sit through another one of Pixis’ seminars on Modeling Proper Language.”

I considered the repercussions of some smart ass comment right then, then decided the room was tense enough as it is. “I’m a student, but not one of yours. I go to Trost.”

The sigh of relief lifted all the tension from his shoulders, and he swiftly unhooked his helmet to run a hand through his sleek black hair. “Thank fucking god. You kids are all such delicate flowers these days. Call someone a fucking brat one time and all of a sudden parents are up your ass about everything.”

The man, who I could only assume must be Levi given that nobody was calling the cops yet, reached back into the hallway to heft a shiny blue bicycle up onto his wiry shoulder, padding into the apartment on bare feet. He paused to consider me as he walked by, offering up “Thank you for taking your shoes off.” Nudging Mikasa’s arm away from the boys, he waved one hand to shoo them away, patting Mikasa on the shoulder as he walked by. “Oi, Mikasa. I like your friend. Much cleaner than that Braus girl.” He said, words fading as he disappeared down the hallway.

Mikasa looked like she was actively in the middle of a brain aneurysm at being referred to as my friend. Eren stifled a giggle behind his closed fist, giving me a wink. Armin used the confusion to weave out from behind her, notebook clutched tightly in one hand. “Well we’ll be going now, I’ll see you both tomorrow.” He said, voice shrill despite the casual tone he was trying to adopt.

Armin gently placed one hand on my back, his touch feather light, as he guided me to the door. As if I wouldn’t have happily jumped out the window, if the door wasn’t an option. Once the door closed behind us he picked up the pace to the stairs, ushering me down the hallway until I threw his arm away, jumping down the first three steps to get a head start. I could hear Armin’s frantic footfalls behind me as I flew down the stairs, as if pursued by something worse than a bitchy teenage girl.

“Annie! Wait up. I’m sorry if Mikasa offended you. Sometimes her temper gets the best of her.”

“I don’t care. It’s fine.” My words would have been a lot more convincing if I hadn’t hissed them out through a clenched jaw, but I have to work with what I’ve got.

“Is it because she insulted your mom? I’m sure she’d apologize if we just went back upsta-”

“I don’t want to talk about my mom!” I said, starting in a normal tone that rose to a high, almost frenzied pitch at the end. I could hear Armin’s footsteps falter for a moment behind me, then he resumed following me. Thankfully, he ignored my outburst, at least for the time being.

“I’m sorry, she’s really nice once you get to know her. She’s just uncomfortable around new people.”

“Uncomfortable.” I restated, unable to believe that her bad attitude was because she was the one who felt out of place. We were almost to the ground floor, so I stopped on one of the landings to lean over the railing. My heartbeat was still all over the place, whether from adrenaline or my complete lack of physical fitness. I chose to believe it was the former. Armin took the spot next to me, close enough to bump elbows.

Armin groaned, pushing one hand through his hair at the front of his face. “I know how she comes across, but she’s been a very good friend to me for a very long time. She just worries about me, that’s all.”

I needed to do something, anything, to distract from the growing pressure in the middle of my chest, so I settled for my oldest tried and true remedy. “What should she be worried about? You’ve got me here to protect you, nothing to fear.” I reached out to pat the top of Armin’s head, making sure to plaster a patronising smirk to my face as I did so.

Armin laughed, holding tight to the bannister so he could lean back and smile at the ceiling. “That’s true. I’m sure your dad showed you every trick in the book. You can probably fight like a demon.”

“When I was little he taught me a few things...but my mother worried I’d get hurt. So I haven’t learned anything in a long time. The closest I get to fighting is when I wrestled Jean to the ground for the last ice cream sandwich.”

“Wow, you guys really rough housed when you were little, huh?”

“That was two years ago.”

“Oh man, poor Jean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey Hi Levi.   
> Not sure when the next chapter will be up, no promises, just be surprised.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas I got everyone an extremely late chapter update. Big thanks to Jelly, as always these days. Enjoy!

Armin’s house was yellow. 

It was yellow, with red shutters and a big screened in front porch that was as wide as the front of the house, and it was disgustingly cute. The other houses on the block looked like their owners had stopped caring about lawn maintenance and new paint five years ago, but Armin and his grandfather clearly took a lot of pride in their home. 

Armin unlocked the gate at the front of the sidewalk, then wheeled his bike inside the fenced in yard, me close behind him. I could see the edges of the garden Armin said his grandfather had around the side of the house, and I wandered over for a closer look. Every inch of available space had been used up, plants bordering the side fence all the way to the back, with barely a foot of space between the garden border and the brick wall of the house. Rows of bright orange pumpkins, dusty squash, and various flowers were all lined up in orderly rows. Carefully planned and painstakingly looked after. A little bit of wild in a concrete city.

I was entranced. 

“This is...amazing..” I said, Armin having followed me to where I was standing.

Armin smiled at me, clearly pleased at my reaction. “I’ll have to tell my grandfather you said so.”  
“Don’t worry, he heard for himself.”

If Armin was as startled as I was by the disembodied voice coming from the plants, he didn’t show it. A second later, a man stepped out from behind a cluster of tall flowers that looked like purple bells, straw hat and pruning shears in hand. Gingerly stepping to make sure nothing important was crushed, he made his way to the lawn. 

“Armin, who is this beautiful young lady?”

“This is Annie, Grandpa. We’re just going to hang out for a bit this afternoon.”

Armin’s grandfather reached out for a handshake, his large calloused hand swallowing mine.   
“Annie.” He repeated. “My name is Arnold. It is very nice to meet you, I’m glad Armin finally got   
around to bringing you by.”

Armin flushed next to me and tried in vain to give his grandfather a meaningful look, but Arnold was still studying my face. 

“You know, you look just like Armin’s dear mother. And I always liked her.”

“Grandpa.” Armin hissed. “Annie may not want to stand out here in this heat wave all day.”

“Calm down, boy. It’s just always nice to meet a young person with an appreciation for the natural world. Annie, my dear, if you ever want to stop by and putter around the garden with an old man, feel free to drop by.”

My eyes wandered back over to the mess of plants, impossibly green and inviting. “What about now?”  
Armin and the old man both just stared at me, so I persisted. “Would now work? I’m free all day.”

Arnold smiled wide, his grin managing to look just like Armin’s. “Now would be perfect. Armin! Get the young lady some of your things to wear. She doesn’t want to get her nice clothes dirty.”

“Oh.” I looked down at my borrowed outfit. “Thank you. Yes, that’s probably a good idea.”

Armin and I headed back around the front of the house, climbing up the few stairs so Armin could leave his bike on the porch. I followed him inside, stopping just inside the doorway to run my fingers over the worn marks in the wood, edged in at various intervals. Next to each, in neatly written marker, was a date and a name. Armin’s. 

“Did you parents do this for you, too?”

Armin had seen what I was doing, and had joined me in running a hand over the notched doorframe. 

In my mind’s eye I could see flashes of my mother lining me up against the kitchen doorframe year after year, carefully pencilling in a mark above my head to show how much I’d grown. Some years Krista was with me at my side, rising up on her tip toes whenever Giselle wasn’t watching, hoping she had finally become the taller one. When I was twelve, the mark read five feet exactly, and when I noticed the tears in my mother’s eyes I also noticed for the first time that we were equal. My thirteenth birthday came and went, and the extra two inches I had grown would be my last. The pencil marks never moved after that, but I remember Giselle praising me anyway, admiring how elegant I looked, and how from then on she needed to rise on the balls of her feet to kiss the top of my head, instead of leaning down. 

“Yes..they did.”

Armin shook his head. “I think every parents does, it must come in the paperwork they send home from the hospital. My mom did it every year in marker, but then one birthday my dad did it while she wasn’t home and used a pocketknife. I still remember how angry she was, and she made him redo all the others so they would match. It’s been that way ever since.”

From what I could see, some of the lines from the bottom up had been gouged in, thicker than the others to hide the original mark. I could also see when the feminine handwriting with Armin’s name and birthday changed over to what must have been Arnold’s blocky scawl, which continued until this last birthday. Armin had been very young when the change happens, which must have been when..

 

I cleared the lump in my throat. “So..do I really look like your mom?”

Armin sighed and shook his head. “He says that to everyone. He said it to Mikasa even, once. She was blonde, like you, so I guess maybe that’s something. I think..” Armin paused, stopping to fiddle with a paperweight that dotted the shelf on one of the numerous packed bookcases scattered around the living room. “I think he just misses her a lot.” 

Abruptly, Armin slammed the paperweight back down and kept going, retreating down a small hallway and opening the door to the right. He paused at the doorway, turning to me and waving me inside awkwardly. “This is my room. I’ll..find something that might fit you.”

I went inside, confused as to why he might be so shy about me seeing his bedroom, then stopped when I saw the likely culprit. Armin busied himself opening drawers, pulling out t-shirts and jeans only to change his mind and stuff them back in. 

“Okay, these are going to be big on you, but I can find a belt that should help.”

“Armin.”

“Or since it’s so hot, do you want to wear shorts? No, you’re going to be weeding today, you don’t want your legs to get scratched up..”

“Armin.”

“Now pretty much any t-shirt should do, do you have a preference for either band shirt or mathletes?   
“ARMIN.”

“WHAT?” He finally turned around, looking both panicked and ashamed. He was very pointedly not look where I was looking.

“Why in the world do you have so many legos?”

Armin’s house was not very big. As such, his bedroom was on the smaller size. His twin bed, small dresser, and desk took up most of the space to one side. Leaving the other side and closet free for the biggest Lego collection I had ever seen. Buckets, both full and empty, were strewn around the floor, the closet door had been removed to make easier access to the shelving unit inside, stacked with bins labeled by color. And in the center of the action, he had what looked like a kitchen table nailed on top of another fucking kitchen table, where it looked like the actual construction took place. A step ladder was off to the side, probably so he could keep building on the second table. 

“What is all this?” I asked again. I circled around, mindful of any stray pieces on the floor. Armin shuffled his feet, as if deciding whether bolting for the door was an option right now.

“This is where I build things.” He said softly, not quite meeting my eyes. 

“What things?” I asked, hauling the step ladder closer so I could climb up and see more.

“Just, things that are in my head. Sometimes I’ll see a building and want to try to recreate it. Or try city planning on a small scale. It helps me work things out if I can see it.”

The bottom platform of the table was a modern city, like he said, a careful gridwork of buildings and roads, even a little park. But as I finally reached the top step, I saw the real masterpiece. 

“Armin, this is..”

It was a walled city, or it was meant to be. One wall rose high above a series of tiny houses and bridges, made entirely of white brick. A gate hung suspended on plastic chains, and I would not have been the least bit surprised to find out it was actually functional. Some of the pieces had clearly been hand painted with care, the delicate brush strokes showing the level of effort it had taken.

“Amazing.” I finished saying. “It’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

A few minuted later I was back outside, using a belt to keep Armin’s baggy jeans on my hips, wearing a T-shirt that smelled like him, my feet in double socks to keep a pair of his tennis shoes on my feet. I settled in weeding around the pumpkins next to Armin’s grandfather, a matching straw hat on my own head to keep the sun’s glare away. Armin kept chatting to us from his spot in the shade, book in his lap and three tall glasses of ice water at the ready. I tried to ignore the setting sun as the day passed, unwilling to let the afternoon end. But end it did, and finally Armin’s grandfather straightened up with a sigh. 

“I guess I should start thinking about dinner.” He said, and I bowed my head, wondering what was even left in my house to eat, when I got sent home. But instead he turned to me, asking if I had any objections to lasagna, and the wide grin I gave him was all the answer he needed. 

~~~~

Lunchtime at Monday was back to business as usual. Mina had gotten all her apologies out of her system in science class, so had moved on to giving me concerned looks as she ate her mac and cheese. Krista and Ymir bickered for awhile over the central theme of a book Krista had to read for english class, while the three boys (rather, two, since Bertolt was eating in silence as usual) were discussing the plans for the away football game Reiner would be playing in. I pushed the food around my plate, reluctant to engage in any kind of conversation, content with just relaying the events of this weekend over and over in my head. 

At least, til I was rudely pulled out of my daydreaming by Ymir, who was sitting on my other side. 

Ymir hooked one arm around my shoulders, pulling me in to smack an exaggerated kiss to the top of my head. “Yep.” she proclaimed. “Annie and I are best buds now. Sorry Krista, sorry Mina. I guess you’ll just have to watch out epic friendship from the sidelines now.”

“You have two seconds to get your arm off me, before you lose it.” I said carefully, gently setting my fork on the side of my tray to free up both hands. 

Ymir withdrew, laughing at me. “Aww, am I moving too fast for you, sourpuss? Anyway, I just remembered I was supposed to tell you something. Nurse Hange stopped me in the hall on the way here, she’d like you to stop in her office sometime during lunch hour.” 

Mina brightened up at Hange’s name. “Hange Zoe? I love her! She lives in my building, I see her all the time. She’s so nice. She tries to make baked goods for us all the time, it’s too bad my mom won’t let me eat them.”

Mina resumed eating, oblivious to the stares she was getting from everyone at the table. Jean broke the silence first. 

“Uh, Mina?”

She looked up. “Yeah?”

“WHY can’t you eat Hange’s food?”

“Oh, my mom thinks she keeps her apartment too messy. I’ve seen it through the open door, and it’s certainly...disorganized..but it doesn’t look dirty, you know? She’s just got a lot of books and papers. But my mom says unless you know what someones kitchen looks like, you shouldn’t eat anything they’ve made.”

I was the only one who had ever seen Mina’s room, so I was also the only one seeing the irony of Mina not eating food made by someone who was too messy.

I left, waving off the chorus of goodbye’s echoing behind me. The halls were deserted as I made my way to Hange’s office. Even though her door was wide open, I still lingered outside, raising my fist to hesitantly knock my knuckles against the frame and get her attention.   
Hange looked up from where she had been kneeling in front of her file cabinet and bounced to her feet when she saw it was me. 

“Oh good, I didn’t know if you’ve have time to drop by.” She said, walking over to gently nudge the door to Moblit’s office. “Come on in, and close the door behind you, will you?”

I did as I was told, and watched as she settled herself into her desk chair, rolling it over to rest by one of the beds. She patted the middle of said bed, asking “Sit down for one sec, this won’t take long.”

I sat down, offering my arm over when she gestured for it, watching as she took my pulse. “How are you feeling? You looked pretty bad on Friday.”

“I feel okay.”

“Really? When did your symptoms start to go away? Did you spike a fever at all?”

“Umm..” I searched my memory of the weekend. “I felt better by Saturday morning. I don’t think I ever had a fever.” After a few seconds, I added “Ymir took good care of me.” to give her some credit.

“Hmm.” she hummed. “And does your father know that you were sick?”

I don’t know how she saw my head shake back and forth while she was still watching the clock. Those glasses must give her better vision that most people. Timing down, she announced my pulse was back to normal, then turned to me with a serious face.

“Annie, you could have been seriously sick. It’s not right to keep something like that from him, he is your parent.”

“He’s not around enough to do much parenting these days…” I said softly, looking at the ground. 

Hange sighed, but not one like she was sick of me, but sick for me. 

“I know your mother isn’t around these days..” she said cautiously. “Would you like to talk about it?” 

I frantically shook my head, gritting my teeth to keep a sob from escaping my throat. 

“Okay, okay, that’s fine.” Hange backpedaled, then studied me thoughtfully. 

“You know, I didn’t have a mother when I was your age either.”

I lifted my head at her words, attention caught. “Did she..?”

“No.” Hange caught my meaning. “She is still alive. She was...too sick to take care of a child. I lived with my grandmother until she passed. Been on my own ever since.”

I could read between the lines that by “sick” Hange didn’t mean something like the flu, or even cancer. 

“Anyway.” she said. “My grandma was already old when I went to stay with her, so I understand how hard it is to do the whole teenage thing without your mother. So tell you what, if you ever have any questions, or just want to talk, come find me.”

“Uh..” I glanced at the door. “Isn’t Mr. Berner supposed to be the guidance counselor?”

“Would you rather talk to Moblit? You can, if you’d like.”

“...no.”

She clapped her hands together. “Great. We don’t have to talk about anything or nothing, it’s your call. Just come by my office during lunch any time, if I have a student here we can just meet another time. Deal?”

“Yes. Okay.”

The bell finally rang for the end of lunch, and Hange reached over to pat me on the shoulder and shoo me off the class. I left, leaving the door open again behind me, entirely unsure of what I’d just gotten myself into. 

~~~~

Hitch’s grating laughter caught my attention while I was trying to pack up my bag after Orchestra. I hadn’t been paying much attention to her, as usual, but my ears perked up a bit when I heard my name, and I tuned in against my better judgement. 

“-all OVER the bathroom floor. It was DISGUSTING. I can’t believe she just left it for the janitor to clean up. Some people just have no decency-”

I swung around in my chair and made eye contact with her, and she gave me a smirk before turning back to her gaggle of equally insufferable friends. Hitch had barely spoken to me all year, she was still pissed that I had taken first chair after the previous senior had graduated. I would have let her have the stupid thing right now if it meant the whole school didn’t find out I was the one who caused the biohazard in the women’s bathroom on Sunday. Although I was probably kidding myself if I thought they didn’t already. One of the plus sides about no social media, it will make it harder to cyber bully me I guess.

I wilted a little in my chair, watching as she finished up and flipped her pretty hair over her shoulder as she twirled around to leave, not making it more than five steps before faceplanting to the ground with a loud shriek. 

Berthold, still in his chair, sputtered out a redfaced apology, and as he looked over to catch my eye I noticed his long, outstretched leg that must have been what caused Hitch’s tumble. The small, pleased twitch of his lips clued me in that this had not been entirely by accident. Way to go, Berthold. 

Ms. Brzenska stuck her head out of her office door and somehow managed to glare at the whole class at once. She usually retreated to her office and shut the door the second class was over, the better to pretend that she wasn’t spending her ph.D in music theory teaching a bunch of rich brats. Clearly, she was not pleased with the interruptions. 

Her eyes flickered back and forth been Hitch, Bertholt, and myself before she finally barked out “Enough, Dreyse. Dust yourself off and get on with it. Hoover, try to contain yourself better.” Her eyes finally came to rest on me, and she just pointed with one finger. “You. In my office.”

I slammed the rest of my things into my backpack, bracing myself for...what, I wasn’t sure. She seriously must not think I was the instigator on this, did she? Unless Bertholt and I can speak telepathically now, in which case I’d rather use that power to tell him to pick me up some extra fries in the lunch line. 

I slunk into Rico’s office, throwing myself into the desk chair she pointed at. Her small office was still as bare as it was the day she took the job last year. All her paperwork and lesson plans neatly tucked away in her desk and lone filing cabinet, the walls empty of any personal effects. A single picture frame dominated the space, holding her doctorate degree, I guess so she could prove that she was qualified to be here, even overqualified. Rico was still young, I’d guess in her early thirties although it was hard to tell since her hair had gone grey early. Or did she dye it that way? Maybe she had a secret life on instagram under the #silverhair tag. 

Ms. Brzenska scowled at me, as if somehow aware of what I was thinking. 

“Annie.” She sighed. “What are you doing here?”

“Uhh..” I looked nervously at the door. “You called me in here?”

Rico waved her hand, irritated with my answer. “Not here in my office, Leonhart. I mean here, in this school.”

I still had no idea what she wanted from me. Was she insinuating that I didn’t fit in here? Was it possible for one teacher to kick you out of school? “My dad pays the tuition..”

Rico took off her glasses and covered her eyes, probably so she wouldn’t have to look at my stupid face one single second longer. 

“No, Annie.” She was aiming for a patient tone, which would have sounded more sincere if she wasn’t gritting her teeth. “I’m trying to to say, what are you trying to get out of your education here? What’s the next step?”

“Oh.”

I hadn’t ever really thought about a next step before. I kind of just hurtled along until I about damn near fell over the next step. 

“I guess..go to college.” She looked at me expectantly, clearly wanting me to go into more detail. “I hadn’t really thought about a degree. Maybe something in science?”

Rico leaned forward, pushing her glasses back on. “Do you have an interest in playing music past high school?”

Yes. 

“I think about it sometimes.” I answered, trying to be vague to hide just how jittery this conversation made me. Of course I’d thought about it, but more in a way like I also thought about being an astronaut, or a professional dog walker. Nice things with almost no chance of happening. 

Rico pursed her lips, looking thoughtful. “Annie, let me level with you. I’m going to treat you like an adult for this conversation, which means I may say some things that are hard for you to hear.” She looked at me then, waiting for me to nod before she went on. “You are very talented, Annie. Maybe one of the most talented students I have this year. But..” 

I braced myself. “But, you are wasting your potential here. Nothing that you are doing here indicates that you’re ready to start applying for colleges, much less the kinds of schools you’d need to go to for music. I’ve heard you barely pay attention in class, yet somehow still turn in A work.” She fixed me with a sharp look at that. “And I’m sure that this semester, some of those A’s are from teachers who are cutting you some considerable slack for your...situation.”

I tried to look down at the shiny desk surface, but she merely stopped talking until I made eye contact again. “Not to mention that you have no extra curriculars this year. I’m also assuming you have no job that takes up your free time. In short, this looks incredible bad on paper, Annie. Good universities don’t want students that just coast on by, not doing anything to show how well rounded they are.”

She was right, this did hurt to hear. 

But at least she wasn’t done. She opened one of the drawers of her desk, rummaging through until she found what she was looking for, then sliding a glossy pamphlet towards me. “I think you can do better than that. Than this.”

I studied the cover of the brochure, afraid to pick it up until she gave me permission. Stohess High School of the Arts was splashed across the page in big letters, superimposed over a stock photo of laughing, culturally diverse students sitting on a grassy lawn. 

“This is the high school I went to. They enroll students who are interested in focusing on performing arts. You don’t have to go on to get a college degree in music if you go there, but it helps a lot of people get scholarship opportunities. I keep in touch with the Dean, and I told him I would send any promising students his way. Annie, I’d like you to apply.”

I lightly ran my fingers over the words on the front of the page, tentatively tracing the letters. As if hearing someone else speak from a great distance, I heard myself ask her what I needed to do. She took out a notepad and started writing some things down for me in her careful handwriting.

“First, make sure your grades stay up. Then, try to branch out and get some hobbies we can put on your application. Take a class somewhere, if you don’t have a job, find one. Even just a few hours a week, it looks great on paper. Now, the hard part. You need to send in two audition tapes, one for solo performances, the next in an ensemble. Do you play another instrument or sing?” I shook my head and she sighed. “That’s a pity. They like it when people have a secondary focus. I’d look into starting to learn something besides the clarinet. You don’t have time to become an expert, but they’ll like that you’re trying.”

She underlined a few bullet points then ripped the page out to hand to me. “Now, for those tapes, I can book you some time at a recording studio a friend of mine owns, and you should start thinking about a few students you can ask to play with your for the ensemble part. We should be able to get this squared away before the new year. Senior year is late to start there, but it’s better than nothing.”

I hadn’t spoken in so long, Rico almost looked startled when I finally opened my mouth. “Do you really think I can do this, Ms. Brzenska?”

Rico’s features didn’t soften, exactly. Just got less sharp, which was probably the best that she could do. “I think you have a lot to offer, Annie. Do I think you can make a living doing what you do? I couldn’t say for sure. For sure, you could land a nice scholarship and put yourself through school, maybe play in a professional orchestra someday. But making it big, that’s something that doesn’t happen for many people.”

“Thank you..Ms. Brzenska. I have a lot to think about.” I folded up the paper she gave me, then hefted my pack onto my shoulders to leave. I was almost through the door when she called my name one more time.

“Annie. If I had to guess that anyone would make it, it would be you.”

I smiled all the way to the bus stop, then the whole ride home. All the regulars gave me a wide berth, as if afraid I was having some kind of breakdown, but I couldn’t bring myself to care even a little.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My budding warlord of the library fantasy was interrupted by Hange yanking the door open, a wide smile spreading across her face. “Annie!” She exclaimed. “So nice to see you! Come on in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys deserve better than this chapter. I'm not completely happy with it, and it was meant to be longer, but I've been sitting on it for so long that I felt like you all deserved some kind of update. I cannot believe this story has more than 100 kudos and almost 1000 views. And some of these lovely comments have made me cry real tears. You guys, and the wonderful things you've shared with me, have made this all worth it. I truthfully don't know what kind of update schedule I can keep, it looks like once a month is doable. I wish I could do more. This story will never stop until it's finished though, that's a promise.

Mina appeared next to my desk Friday morning in the minutes before first period English class started, a worried expression twisting her face. She waited impatiently, shifting from foot to foot as she waited for Jean to finish whatever he was droning on about, until finally her need to speak overpowered her impeccable sense of manners. 

“There is something you need to know.” She blurted out, ignoring the glare Jean was directing her way at the interruption, “but I promised I wouldn’t tell you.”

I blinked slowly at her. “Ok. If that’s what you think is best..”

“No!” She insisted. “It’s really important. Like, suuuper important.”

“Alright, then tell-”

“I can’t. I swore I wouldn’t!”

This was making my head hurt. “Mina.” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Either tell me or don’t, but I can’t do this so early in the morning.”

Mina looked on the verge of tears when Jean leaned over, for once something useful coming out of his mouth. “You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone, or just wouldn’t tell Annie?”

The look of relief on Mina’s face was immediate, and she quickly leaned down to whisper in Jean’s ear, casting me furtive looks as she did so. Jean’s look of concentration was soon replaced by one of exasperation, and when Mina stood back up he rolled his eyes at me. 

“Reiner told Mina that Tall-Dark-and-Sweaty wants to ask you to Homecoming. He asked Mina if you were seeing anybody, and she told him no.” Jean glared up at Mina. “Because apparently we did not have a specific agreement in place that you two would go to homecoming with two very important people in my life, to ensure my successful relationship.”

“Jean, you have no relationship. That girl is a robot, capable of only rage. And Mina,” I turned towards her, “Why on earth did you tell him I wasn’t seeing anybody?”

Mina blushed, suddenly paying very close attention to her feet. “Well you aren’t! You haven’t said anything about asking Armin, and you don’t talk about him like you guys are a couple….are you?”

I was saved from Mina’s question by Miss Nifa hustling into the room, clearly ready for the weekend to be in full swing already. “Everyone who isn’t in a seat, get one right now.” She snapped, narrowed eyes scanning the room. “I don’t care if you’re sitting by your buddy, get your butts in a seat.” A few people continued on with their hushed conversation, oblivious to the approaching danger. “Immediately!” She bellowed. “Sit down, immediately, people.” 

Conversations died. Birds ceased to chirp. Everyone held their breath, afraid to waken the dormant volcano that was Miss Nifa. 

Mina had gone still, as if remaining motionless would save her from the teacher’s early morning wrath. I watched her eyes flick between the door, so far away, and the available seat to my right.   
“Mina no.” I murmured. “You aren’t even in this class.”

“Mina, get out of here. What are you doing?” Jean hissed, careful not to raise his voice so loud Miss Nifa would hear. 

She gave the door one last glance, then wilted into the chair, white knuckles gripping the table surface. From behind us we heard Jean let out a long, low whistle. Clearly he was as amazed as I was by the turn of events. Did Mina think she was just going to bluff her way through the class, rather than cause a scene by leaving? 

Yes. Yes she did.

And did it work?

It did not. But I was impressed she managed to last at least twenty minutes with no notes or book on her desk, just staring straight ahead, before the teacher finally noticed her while walking up and down the aisles lecturing about the symbolism in The Color Purple. 

Miss Nifa paused next to her desk, giving her an incredulous look. “Miss Carolina.” She finally said. “What the hell are you doing in my class right now?” 

Mina looked around guiltily, obviously not sure where to rest her eyes. “Nothing.” She squeaked out. “I just had to tell Annie something before class.” 

A twitch started developing in Miss Nifa’s left eye. A vein none of us had ever noticed before began to softly pulse across her forehead. “Mina, that was almost half an hour ago. Why are you still here?”

A long silence filled the room as Mina searched for an answer that wouldn’t just aggravate her further. When it was clear she wasn’t going to respond, Nifa brought her palm up to her face and sighed. “Just go to your next class, Miss Carolina. Being tardy to your real first period class will be punishment enough.” She said through gritted teeth, but Mina remained frozen.

“NOW, MINA.”

Grabbing her bag, Mina sprang up and fled the room so fast I’m surprised she even used the door. The quickest way out would have just been to make a Mina shaped hole in the wall. Miss Nifa stalked up to the front of the room, throwing herself in her chair. “Silent reading for the rest of class, guys.” She groaned, setting her head on the desk surface. 

~~~~

Now knowing what I knew, I took Mina’s warning to heart and did what any mature, responsible person would do.   
I skipped lunch to go hide somewhere. 

Tentatively, I raised my fist to knock on Hange’s closed office door. She was probably with a student, I reasoned. That would leave me no choice but to hide in the stacks in the library, which were unfortunately the prime makeout spots for all the upperclassmen. Maybe I could fight one of the weaker couples off to establish a new territory. Hopefully somewhere near the fiction section.

My budding warlord of the library fantasy was interrupted by Hange yanking the door open, a wide smile spreading across her face. “Annie!” She exclaimed. “So nice to see you! Come on in.”

I toed into the room, trying my hardest to look like I had a million options of where to spend lunch, and I was choosing to spend it with the school nurse because I wanted too. Not because I was desperately avoiding real life obligations. . “I can come back later, if this is a bad time.” 

She clucked her tongue at me, closing the door again. “I was just catching a quick catnap, nothing important. What’s that old saying, you can sleep when you’re dead?”

Sure enough, the usual mayhem on her desk had been shoved aside in several directions, clearing out enough space for someone to lay their head on folded arms. “Why don’t you just sleep on one of the beds?”

Hange laughed, settling herself back into her desk chair and stretching out her long legs. “Too comfortable. If I did that, the whole day would be gone, and I have too much work to do.” 

She must have seen the way my eyes flickered around the empty room, because she waved a hand lazily in the air. “Oh, not work work. I catch up on school work when I have some downtime. Perks of the job.” 

I hoisted myself onto the edge of one of the beds, lightly swinging my feet. “School for what? You already have a degree….right?” Surely the school wouldn’t hire a nurse with no nursing degree, would they?

Hange tapped the name badge over her right shirt pocket. “Hange Zoe, B.S.N.” She read aloud. “Bachelors Science of Nursing, and I have the student loans to prove it. I’m getting my Masters now, and soon hopefully I’ll be a Nurse Practitioner.”

“Why didn’t you just go to be a doctor? That’s basically what a Nurse Practitioner is, yeah?”

Hange gave me a small smile. “That takes a lot of school, kid, and after my Grandmother died I needed a degree that would pay off with a job now, not in eight years. This way I can pay my bills.”

“Oh.” I said softly, all of a sudden feeling very young. “I didn’t mean..”

“I know what you meant. It’s okay.” Hange said, the warm grin back on her face. “Now, let’s talk about you, Annie. Why did you come see me today?”

“....someone wants to ask me to Homecoming.”

She leaned forward in her chair. “That’s great!” After a couple seconds, she caught the look I was giving her. “Oh no, wait, that’s terrible.”

“It’s not terrible.” I insisted. “I just don’t feel that way about this person. And I don’t know how to tell them that. I don’t know how to tell them anything, really. We’ve never spoken.”

“Well.” Hange said carefully. “Whoever this person is, I’m sure he or she will be fine if you tell them no.” 

“It’s a he.”

“Right then. He can take a little rejection, just be respectful. You don’t seem like the kind of girl to stream humiliating videos of people on the internet.”

I cracked a little smile. “No, I’m not.”

“Great, then there’s no harm done to either of you.”

She waited a little bit, then probed again. “Do you not want to go to the dance at all, or do you want to go with someone else?”

I thought for a minute. “I don’t really want to go at all. I went to my first dance a few weeks ago and I hated it. If Armin wasn’t there I don’t know what I would have done.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “And Armin is…?”

“A friend.” I answered. “....he might be my boyfriend.”

“Does he know that?” 

I was probably blushing, god dammit. My cheeks felt all hot. “I think he wants to be, we just...haven’t talked about it.”

“Well, maybe you and Armin should not go to the dance together. Do something else fun instead.”

This conversation was making me too nervous, so I tried to switch topics. I didn’t like talking about Armin with other people, it was almost like I wanted to keep him a secret. Which was stupid, since he was a living, breathing human being who definitely had a better social life than I did. 

“Ms. Rico thinks I should get a job.”

Hange looked blindsided by the change of subject. “Because….she thinks you’re a lazy bum?”

“No.”

Hange breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Moblit might cry actual tears if he has to have another conversation with her about appropriate ways to connect with students.”

“She wants me to get a job because it will look good on a school application.” 

“Well, that’s certainly a good reason.” Hange agreed, reaching both arms back to lace her fingers behind her head. She lazily swung her rolly chair from side to side as she spoke. “Do you have the time for a commitment like that?”

“I have nothing but time.” I answered truthfully. 

“Hm. And you don’t think it will impact your schoolwork?” 

I shook my head, and Hange clapped her hands together once. “Well great! Then I think that’s a wonderful idea. You’ll get to meet new people, learn some new things, I think it would be very good for you. What will you spend your money on?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged one shoulder up. “I’ll find something.”

“One last question.” Hange said, eyeballing the clock in the corner. It was almost time for the bell to ring for the end of lunch. “Where are you going to work?”

Oh. That.

"I hadn't really thought about it." I admitted, avoiding meeting Hange's eyes. Even I knew how lame this whole idea was. 

Clearly Hange thought so too, though she tried to mask it with a professional tone. She failed. "You hadn't thought about it." She repeated. "Okay..what kind of jobs would you enjoy doing?"

Ice cream tasting. Crime fighting. Career dog scratch-er. "I don't know." Is what I said instead. "It's my first job, does it have to be something I enjoy?"

"No." Hange agreed. "Your first job should be something you barely tolerate, so you can leave with tons of stories to laugh about with in college with your friends." She raked one hand through her wild ponytail, looking thoughtful. 

"What was your first job?" I asked. I was genuinely curious what a woman like Hange did in her spare time. All I knew about her was that she worked here, lived in Mina's (very nice) building, and was so messy it put someone like Mina to shame. 

She laughed a little, cheeks turning a bit pink at the memory. "I made sandwiches for about two weeks before the owner fired me for being 'too creative' with the recipes." Seeing my strange look, she added, "Apparently seaweed and bacon subs were not the perfect thing missing from his menu."

"What sandwich place even HAS seaweed?"

"Oh, I brought it from home. After that, I didn't have a job until I went to college, then I worked a few hours in the library every week. My grandmother left me her apartment and a little money, enough to get by until I graduated." Hange's voice trailed off just slightly at the end, growing wistful at the thought of the grandmother who must have loved this loud, weird little girl very much. "Anyway," she focused, snapping out of it. "Where do your friends have jobs? You could start there, since you know those places would be okay hiring 16 year olds." 

The only friends with jobs I had (and for one of them, I used a very loose definition of the word friend) worked at the same place. Armin and Ymir. I tried to imagine myself shelving books or brewing coffee. It couldn't be that bad, could it? 

According to Ymir, it could. She was currently slamming her books into her locker as other students streamed past us in the halls, ready to start their weekend. "You do NOT," she said, banging the door closed extra loud for emphasis, "want to be a barista. It's awful. Sometimes I lie awake at night and hope the building will burn down. Or get struck by a meteor. Something."

"Why don't you just quit, then? I've seen your house, you obviously don't need the money." I shot back, my voice already adopted the special tone it only took in Ymir's presence. And I used to think Jean was the most irritating person alive. How foolish I was. 

"Because that's what people who eventually want to move out of their parents homes and NOT be crazy shut ins do." She reached over to condescendingly pat the top of my head. "And I'm so glad to see you finally taking this important first step." 

"Fuck off." I retorted, but my tone lacked any venom. She was right. "So what about the bookstore side? Anyone can do that, right?"

"Theoretically, yes, but the problem is that they have Armin working over there, and he does the work of like, 3 people. Hell, I think he sneaks in on his days off sometimes to reorganize the atlases. Between him and the full timers, I don't know if they need anybody else."

Great. Ymir must have noticed the slight slump of my shoulders, because she rolled her eyes and slung an arm around me. "Cheer up, I'll take you by anyway and we'll talk to Flegel. Maybe he'll have something for you. Did you give Krista her clothes back that you borrowed from my house?" 

"Yes." I answered, mystified at the subject change. 

"Well that's too bad, Flegel is kind of pervy. If you wore that cats shirt in, he might even make you a manager."

Ymir somehow knew the exact moment to spin me away to dodge the open handed slap I was aiming at the back of her head. She danced away, laughing hysterically. "Does your dad know you fight like a sissy?" She called, turning away to the door, twirling her car keys in her hand. "Come one, be a brave girl and we'll get ice cream on the way home."

“Wait, we’re leaving now?” I asked. There was still a whole class period left in the day, my clarinet was still in the bottom of my bag, ready to be assembled. And Ymir...I actually had no idea what class Ymir had. She could be in Advanced Metal Working in French and I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised. 

“I’m sorry, did you WANT to sit in the band room while Bertolt stares holes into the back of your head for an hour straight before he passes out like a fainting goat?” 

“...who told you.” 

“You didn’t show up at lunch and Mina practically wept into her french fries the whole time. It wasn’t hard for Reiner to figure out she spilled the beans. Bert is only a little bit heartbroken that you’d ghost us just to avoid him, thanks for asking.”

“Oh..well then. No. I don’t think Orchestra today is a wise choice.”

“A wise choice, my friend. Know when to hold em, and know when to call in with a conveniently timed illness.” Ymir turned around and started walking again, confident that I would follow. “Come on, we need to get outside so I can call the office and pretend to be my mom. History can wait today. We’re on a mission!”

I knew I wouldn’t like the answer, but I asked the question anyway. “What mission are we on, exactly?”

Ymir shot me a wide, toothy grin. “Turn Annie into a functional human being, phase 2.” 

“What the hell was phase one?”

“When I decided to take you under my wing, young padawan. God put me on this earth to make sure you didn’t die alone in a room, surrounded by 40 cats. And I accept the challenge.”

Ymir and I stepped outside into the sunlight, and as I tailed her through the parking lot I wondered if it was possible to throw someone from a moving car if they were the one driving it. Maybe after she helped me find gainful employment. Maybe.


End file.
